We'll Be Better Off Apart
by xelectrogirlx
Summary: Howard and Vince have been fighting more and more and eventually they decide to go it alone, each convinced they will be happier. But will they? How long will it take them to realise what they want? Howince, eventually.
1. Chapter 1

**We'll Be Better Off Apart**

**Author's Note: Hey all. So this is my second fic, and I warn you it's angsty from the very beginning. Not sure how long it'll end up being, it depends on any feedback (hint, hint!) **

**Warning: Strong language and mild violence**

**Disclaimer: I own nothing**

A very small man in long flowing robes and a turban and a gorilla who was significantly larger, opened the front door of a shop somewhere in London. If this unlikely pair looked unusual, it was nothing to the contents of the shop. Peculiar knick-knacks adorned the shelves, there was a clock in the shape of a monkey head, on one side was a rack of brightly coloured, sparkly clothes, on the other was a stand of old Jazz LPs and what looked like a village made entirely out of stationary.

As the duo entered, the gorilla shuffled across to the miniature village and deliberately plucked a paperclip out of it, and hid it behind some dusty bottles on the nearest shelf. The small man tutted.

"Don't do that Bollo, you ballbag, Howard'll go mental. He'll think Vince did it – and you know they're fighting more than usual anyway."

The gorilla shrugged. "Howard already going mental. Don't need help from Bollo." The turbaned man nodded in agreement, and, as one, both of them raised their eyes to the ceiling. A series of crashes and bangs were thundering from upstairs, accompanied by loud yells. Someone was clearly having a massive fight, and by the look that the man and gorilla exchanged, it wasn't the first time.

Tentatively they climbed the stairs, the man going first. Upstairs was a living room, with a brightly coloured sofa in the middle, facing an old-fashioned television set. To the right was a small kitchen area and two doors that led to the man and gorilla's bedrooms. Straight ahead was another door, slightly ajar, that was clearly the bathroom. To the left were two doors, the nearest one of which was open a little.

The man and gorilla both sat down on the sofa, arms folded, waiting it out.

"You've gone wrong, Howard! For the last time I 'aven't taken it!" This voice belonged to a man, but from the high-pitched tone you'd be forgiven for thinking it was a girl. The accent was distinctly cockney. A much lower voice with a Northern twang bellowed in response.

"Oh don't make me laugh, Vince! I know you took it, you know how much it annoys me. You'll just do anything to make me angry won't you? Give it back!"

"I haven't taken it, you jazzy freak! Why would I want a stupid paperclip?"

"I don't know, don't ask me to figure out the crazed workings of your simpleton mind. I've been in there once, I have no wish to go again, sir! Now give me the paperclip! They've been going missing on a regular basis, who else would take them?"

The gorilla shifted on the sofa, looking distinctly uncomfortable. The turbaned man turned and glared at him with a look that clearly said, 'I told you so.'

"I dunno, how about, the paperclip stealers?"

The other voice, belonging to the man Howard, sounded weary now.

"For the last time Vince, there's no such thing as paperclip stealers."

"'Course there are. Ain't you never seen 'The Borrowers'? They nab all kinds of stuff. They probably been taking your bits of paper with chat up lines written on 'em. That's why you ain't been able to get a girl." Vince's voice was taunting, and from the bellow of rage that emerged from the bedroom, he'd gone too far. There was a crashing and thumping noise, as if someone had just been slammed against a wall. The man and Bollo leapt to their feet, looking anxiously towards the door. There was a choked gurgle.

"H-Howard, get off. Please Howard, I c-can't breathe..." With one look at the gorilla, the turbaned man rushed into the room. The first thing someone would notice at another time would be the colour. In this room, everything was colourful. The walls were painted a sparkly purple and pink, the duvet was a satiny, silky bright blue. On one side of the room was a huge wardrobe that took up the entire wall, with clothes bursting out of it, all colours of the rainbow. Hats, belts, badges, scarves and shoes littered the floor and hung draped from a hat stand in the corner. There was a dresser with an enormous mirror propped up on it, and an array of beauty products in bottles. A pair of straighteners lay next to it on the floor. It was clearly a room for someone obsessed by their own appearance. But the man and gorilla didn't pay attention to any of it. Instead, their eyes were drawn to the tableau by the wall next to the bed. A tall, brown-haired man, in bottle-green cordoroys and a beige sweater was standing with his back to them. One large hand was stretched out, and clasped around the throat of a smaller man, who was being crushed against the wall. This man was clearly the owner of the room. He had fluffy, long dark hair with an edgy, choppy fringe that fell halfway over his eyes, which were large and blue – and at the moment – dilated with fear. He appeared to be wearing make-up, some eyeshadow and eyeliner that made his eyes seem bigger than they already were. His clothes were obviously the height of fashion, red skinny jeans with black cowboy boots, and a tight black t-shirt with a silver lightning flash picked out across the front in sequins.

He was choking and gasping, the other man seemed to be frozen in place, and wasn't letting him go. The small man clicked his fingers at Bollo, and the gorilla leapt forward, prising the bigger man's hand away from the other's throat.

The younger man, whose name was Vince, took a heaving breath and started massaging his throat. The other, Howard, stared at him for a moment, some unfathomable emotion flickering in his dark brown eyes, then he turned and strode from the room without another word.

Bollo the gorilla took Vince by a slender arm, and led him through to the living room where he sat him on the sofa, and started making him a cup of tea. After a while the man with the turban, who was a Shaman by the name of Naboo, wandered in and sat next to Vince on the sofa. Neither of them said a word.

"What was it this time?" Naboo eventually broke the silence. Vince continued rubbing his throat, where angry red marks were starting to bloom.

"'Is stupid stationary village. 'E's convinced that I took a paperclip just to annoy 'im. 'E's so _anal_ Naboo, it's unreal."

"I'll have a word," Naboo said, his face blank of emotion. He wasn't surprised by the afternoon's events. Things had gone from bad to worse in the relationship between his two lodgers who also worked downstairs at his shop, the Nabootique. About a month ago Howard had come back from an ill-advised trip to Denmark, where he was supposed to have got his big acting break. Instead he'd come back, humiliated and angry, to find that Naboo had already replaced him, hiring a guy called Adam. Adam had been fired, and Howard reinstated, but since then Howard had become different to the man he'd been before. He'd withdrawn into himself even more than usual, become aloof and distant, barely talking even to Vince, his best friend. Vince had noticed this change, and from Naboo's point of view, had tried to draw Howard out, but with no success. So recently Vince had taken to provoking Howard's temper, just to get a reaction out of him other than blank indifference. Unfortunately, as had just been proved by the incident in Vince's bedroom, this strategy was having no visible success.

Naboo turned his head, and glanced at Vince. He was lying back against the sofa cushions, his eyes closed, his breathing still slightly laboured. Naboo sighed, heaved himself off the sofa and padded off down the hallway towards Howard's room.

The door was closed, but Naboo could hear strains of Jazz leaking through into the hall. He knocked on the door.

"Come in." Howard's voice was soft, Naboo could barely hear it. He pushed the door open slowly. Howard was sitting on his bed, head in his hands.

"Howard?"

The man looked up, tears welling in his small eyes. "Hey Naboo."

Naboo went and sat down on the bed next to him. "Howard, it's not Vince who's been taking your paperclips. Bollo takes them, he thinks it's funny." Howard stared at him, and then his head fell back into his hands.

"Oh God."

Naboo reached over and awkwardly patted Howard's shoulder for a few seconds. "Vince is just trying to get through to you, Howard. He's worried about you."

"It's not just that, though, is it Naboo?" Howard's voice was low and bitter. "The paperclip thing was just the last straw. We've been rowing more and more and I just, I just almost strangled him. I _hurt_ him. That's not supposed to happen with us. We're different people to how we were in the Zoo. We've both changed, and I'm not sure for the better. If things don't improve then... then..." He stopped. Naboo was worried, this was very unlike Howard.

"Then what?" he prompted.

Howard shook his head. "I don't know. Even though it kills me to say it I'm just starting to think that maybe... maybe we'll be better off apart."

**Please let me know what you think. I just wanted to explore the idea of how they'd cope going it alone, and knowing me there'll be Howince later on. Reviews are love.**


	2. Chapter 2

**Author's Note: Another update, just cos I wanted to keep writing! Not sure when the next one will be up. Probably tomorrow, but I'm not making any promises!**

**Warning: Strong language**

**Disclaimer: Nothing belongs to me, all to the BBC and Noel and Julian**

"Vince? Vince, I'm making a cup of tea, d'you want one?" Howard knocked on the door gently. There was no sound from within. "Vince?" He knocked louder. There was a muffled groan and something that sounded like, "Go 'way." He banged on the door. "Vince, it's ten o clock! Get out of bed, you're supposed to be in the shop! I'll make you a cup of tea." Sighing angrily Howard moved away from his friend's door and started boiling the kettle. He'd been up for three hours, he'd opened the shop, done the stock check, tried to sell his Jazz records to three customers and hoovered the flat. And Vince hadn't even got out of bed yet. He stirred the tea slightly more vigorously than was necessary. He was treated like some sort of servant in this place. Bollo barely acknowledged his existence, Naboo usually ignored him and Vince... Vince, well. He didn't know what to do about him. Just as Howard threw the two used teabags into the bin, he heard Vince's door open. Turning around he saw his best friend cross the flat, shoulders slumped, and drop onto the sofa. He was dressed more conservatively than usual and Howard could see the marks on his neck from the day before. A pang of guilt shot through him, but he squashed it quickly. Vince had had it coming.

"Here's your tea," he said, almost slamming the bright orange mug down onto the coffee table. Vince glanced up at him.

"Thanks," he said sullenly. Howard fidgeted for a bit and then said quickly.

"Look, I'm sorry about yesterday. I shouldn't have done it." Vince said nothing, just reached for his latest Cheekbone magazine and started flicking through it. "Aren't you going to say anything?"

Vince sighed and put the magazine down. "What d'you want me to say, Howard? 'Don't worry, I forgive you, because I deserved it?' Well guess what, I _didn't _deserve it. You went off on me for no reason."

Howard glared at him. "No reason?"

"It was just a paperclip you freak. And I didn't even take it!"

Howard ran his hands through his hair.

"Vince, it's not just about the paperclip." The younger man shifted slightly on the sofa, and Howard noticed that he actually looked confused.

"It isn't?"

"How can you be so incredibly thick? Honestly, sometimes it's like talking to an absolute moron with you. Haven't you noticed how things are now? With me and you?"

Vince stood up so that he was facing Howard, fluffing a hand through his black hair in an automatic movement.

"Yeah, I've noticed. I've noticed that you barely talk to me anymore, unless it's to shout or call me an idiot. How can I be expected to know what's going on with you unless you tell me? We're supposed to be friends, Howard. You hardly spoke to me yesterday, and then suddenly you burst into my room ranting and raving about some stupid paperclip. What was I supposed to do? Just stand there and take it? Cause I won't do that, Howard."

Howard sneered at him. "No, that's not your style is it? Facing up to your problems. You just run away or go buy a new hat. I _did_ tell you what was wrong, and what did you do? You laughed at me. I told you the day after I came back from Denmark that I was upset about Adam being found so quickly..."

"Oh you're not still going on about _that_ are you?"

"Yes I am, sir. How would you feel if you found out that you were totally replaceable at the drop of a hat..."

Vince looked puzzled. "I dunno how that would feel. Everyone knows I'm not replaceable, I'm unique."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah."

By this time they were almost nose to nose, voices were raised.

"Well not that unique, really, are you? Lance Dior did quite a good job at being as shallow as you." Vince stepped back slightly, stung. That was a low blow, and Howard knew it. Howard knew how upset Vince had got at the whole business with the Flighty Zeus. Howard ploughed on, unable to stop the venom spewing from his mouth. "In fact, I reckon he could almost have _been_ you. Only he wasn't quite able to get the real bitchiness that you need to be Vince fucking Noir."

Vince shook his head slightly. "Howard, that's not fair. Take that back."

But Howard had gone beyond stopping. "He didn't bully Harold enough did he, really? I bet Lance never let Harold get fired for the sake of a cape."

Vince stepped forward, his eyes blazing.

"Yeah? Well I bet Harold never sold Lance to a rapist for the sake of a map! That takes a special kind of coward, doesn't it? You'd know all about that."

Howard's face paled. "H-how...?"

Vince's eyes were tearing up with a mixture of hurt and anger. "That nutjob told me. Right before Naboo came running in. I'd told him my mate was a real Man of Action, he'd come and sort him out. And then... then he said that you'd said... how, how long would you... how long would you need him for..." Vince's voice cracked and the threatening tears spilled over. He dashed them away with an angry hand.

"Vince, please..."

"I didn't believe 'im. I never believed you'd do that. Until I asked Naboo 'bout it a coupla weeks ago. I asked 'im how you'd got that map that showed where the yetis were. 'E didn't answer at first, but I got it out of 'im. You had a guilty conscience and confessed all to 'im didn't yer? Confessed 'ow you'd sold your best mate to a rapist..." Vince's voice went completely and he clattered off down the stairs. The door to the shop slammed shut a minute later. Howard stood motionless, all the blood drained from his face.

**Sixteen Hours Later**

The atmosphere in the living room of the flat above the Nabootique was tense to say the least. Naboo and Bollo sat silently in their chairs throwing nervous looks at each other. Howard was pacing, a glass of red wine clutched in his hand so tightly his knuckles were going white. Naboo frowned.

"Howard, you're gonna break that glass in a minute. Just relax will ya?" Howard shot him a dirty look but didn't say anything. Naboo had come back that afternoon to find the shop deserted, Howard sitting upstairs staring blankly into space and no sign of Vince. Well, that wasn't all that unusual, he usually dashed off to Topshop several times in the space of one day, just in case he missed something he hadn't seen before. But now it was two o clock in the morning, and he still wasn't back. Naboo didn't need to be a Shaman to know that Vince and Howard had had the mother of all fights.

Howard glanced at his watch again, for the third time in the last minute. "Where _is_ he?" he muttered to himself. Another fifteen minutes passed. Howard gave up pacing and collapsed onto the sofa. Suddenly there was the sound of a key turning in the lock below. Howard sat up ramrod straight, as though he'd been slapped.

There was the sound of footsteps climbing slowly up the stairs. From this alone Howard knew that Vince wasn't drunk. When he came back drunk he made one hell of a noise and usually knocked half the items in the shop over. But if he wasn't drunk, then where the hell had he been?

Vince appeared at the top of the stairs, sopping wet, his dark hair plastered to his head, strands dangling over his pale face, drops of water trickling down onto the carpet. Howard leapt up.

"Vince! What on _earth_ happened? You're soaked!"

Vince stared at him vacantly. "It's rainin'."

"I don't mean that! I mean what happened to _you_? It's gone two in the morning! I've been worried sick!"

Vince gave him a look which said plainer than words that he didn't believe that and muttered, "I went for a walk."

"For _sixteen hours_?" Howard's voice was little more than a screech.

"I 'ad a lot to think about." Howard's gut twisted a little. Vince's voice was dull and flat. He'd hardly ever seen him like this before, he never normally stopped talking. And besides Howard had a horrible feeling what Vince meant by 'a lot to think about'.

"Look, Vince, I know we, well, we had words this morning..." At this point Bollo and Naboo both edged up from their chairs and shuffled tactfully out of the room. "... but the least you could have done was to let me know you were okay! Just a text or something. I could have been doing things today, instead I was worrying about you."

"What things, Howard?"

Howard gaped. "What d'you mean?"

"What things could you have been doing?"

Howard floundered slightly. "Well, lots of things. I have that new poetry I was telling you about, a new movement in poetic form, sir, and..."

"Oh give over, Howard. You know that bollocks is never going to get published. You spend hours doing that, organising stationary village, insisting you're a multi-instrumentalist, going to _jazzercise_, and what have you actually done with it all? Ay?"

Howard flinched back, then rounded on Vince. "I could have done lots with it, sir! I could have been somebody, a leading musician in the Jazz field! Instead, I have to stay here with _you_, an idiot who's constantly getting into some kind of bother and expects me to dig him out of it."

Vince's eyes widened. "_You_ dig _me_ out of trouble? I think you'll find it's the other way round, _sir_. I know what you do, you cling onto me cause you think that some of my popularity and success will rub off on you, get you out of your own dreary existence."

"How dare you? You're the one holding me back, we both know it." By this time both men were shaking with rage. The air was spitting with the hatred flowing between them.

"I wish I'd never even met you! You're a selfish little bitch who thinks of nothing but himself and his hair all day long. You treat me like absolute _shit_, and then expect me to forgive you at the drop of a hat. Who d'you think's left to pick up the pieces of the messes you get us both into? Me! God, sometimes I wish the Head Shaman _had_ cut off your head, then at least I'd be rid of your idiocy!"

Vince had been about to retort when Howard's last sentence left his lips.

Vince blinked.

Silence.

Absolute silence.

Howard looked horrified at what he'd said, but still half defiant. Vince nodded his head slowly.

"Awright, Howard."

He turned away and walked into his bedroom, closing the door softly behind him. Howard was left in the dark living room, shaking with anger still, looking at the closed door.

**Argh! I'm so mean, I know. Let me know what you think, please! xxx**


	3. Chapter 3

**Author's Note: Apologies, my fiancé came down to visit me for a few days, so I couldn't really write another chapter while he was here. But now he's gone again, so I can continue – whoop whoop! **

**Warnings: Angst by the bucketload**

**Disclaimer: Not mine**

Howard woke up in the morning with the sun pouring in through the gap in the curtains, and a pounding headache. Groggily he rubbed his eyes and sat upright. After their awful row last night, once Vince had gone into his room, Howard had set about the important task of making himself as drunk as possible as quickly as possible. He must have gone through at least a bottle of red wine. _A bottle!_ Usually Howard was tipsy on only one small glass. He swung his legs out of bed and peered at the clock on the bedside table. It was ten o'clock! Naboo would be furious if he found out the shop hadn't been opened, and it was no use hoping that Vince would have done it.

Upon standing up he had to hold onto the bedpost for support while his head whirled and little spots danced in front of his eyes. Once he'd regained some sort of balance he stumbled into his dressing gown and headed into the kitchen to make a cup of tea. No doubt Vince would still be asleep. Howard decided to make Vince his favourite breakfast, waffles doused in honey, treacle and sprinkles, along with a large cup of tea – his way of saying sorry. As he pottered about the kitchen his headache started to ease a bit, and he could think slightly more clearly. He felt _awful_ about what he'd said to Vince last night. True they'd both been angry, and Vince had said some pretty hurtful things too, but that was no excuse. There were some things you just didn't say to best friends, and something that pretty much translated as 'I wish you'd died' was one of those things. Of course, there were some things you didn't _do_ to best friends either... Howard would never stop beating himself up over the incident with Kodiak Jack.

The thing was, ever since that night on the roof when Vince had kissed him to save himself from the Head Shaman's sword, Howard had been in a state of complete and utter inner turmoil. Especially when it seemed that Vince had just bounced straight back into how they were before. Vince had thought he'd gone mental, but the truth was something _had_ changed inside Howard that night. The feel of Vince's lips on his, the nearness of his body... well, it had him thinking some fairly irregular thoughts. And, more recently, these thoughts had invaded his dreams as well, only they'd ended up being a hell of a lot filthier than the daytime thoughts, and often resulted in Howard having to wash his sheets. Thinking about it, that was probably why he'd been having a go at Vince so much lately. He felt it covered up the way that he was _really_ feeling quite well. But now, now he was just sick of it all. It was clear that Vince would never in a million years feel the same way, and Howard was starting to think that maybe it would be better if they spent some time apart, and pursued their own dreams for a while.

Breakfast completed, Howard took the cup of tea across the room and knocked on Vince's door. No answer. Well, that wasn't unusual. Howard knocked again a little louder.

"Vince! I've made you breakfast, your favourite!" Still dead silence. Getting a little annoyed now Howard knocked harder.

"Waffles with treacle, honey and sprinkles! Come on, Vince, I'm sorry about last night. Let's just forget it, eh?"

Nothing. Howard began to get really angry. He turned the handle and barged into the room... and stopped dead.

The room was empty. The bed looked as though it hadn't been slept in. The wardrobe doors were open and most of the clothes were missing. The straighteners, all the beauty products, the hats and shoes... .gone. Just gone. Without thinking what he was doing, Howard shakily put the cup of tea down on the empty desk. His eye caught something near the mirror. It was the dictophone Vince sometimes used to record ideas for their songs. On it was a post-it note with the message.

Howard, press play

With shaking hands, Howard picked up the dictophone and pressed the play button. He held it close to his ear. There was a silence. Then Vince's voice sounded from the speakers.

"_Hey, Howard. Um, I'm not sure how to say this, really..."_ His voice was muffled and thick, it sounded like he'd been crying. _"... but, well, we're not really getting on that well nowadays, are we? Fighting all the time and that. I dunno what I've done to make you so angry all the time, but I've had enough of you going on at me. I think last night was the last straw really. What you said, well... I really 'ope you didn't mean it. But I think I can understand where you was coming from. 'Cos I 'ave been a bit of a bitch to ya Howard, I know that. But it don't mean anything. It's never serious, 'cos I've never 'ad a friend like you before..."_ Okay, he was definitely crying now. Muffled sobs were making it hard for him to talk. _"... I can 'ear you out there in the flat now. Crashing about and stuff. I'll be gone by the time you get up in the morning I reckon. I know how even one glass of wine knocks you flat, you lightweight."_ He chuckled to himself, not in a mocking, nasty way. _"So, I'm gonna try and pursue my dream. I'm gonna be a rock 'n' roll star, or try anyway. You could try all the stuff you kept telling me you were gonna do. Cream poet extraordinaire or summing like that. I reckon you'll be better off without me anyway. I reckon I was holding you back, just like you said. Don't try and ring me for a bit will ya? I just need... I need some space... 'cos I, I really..." _His voice broke as the tears got the better of him. _"... I never knew 'ow to say this, but I..."_ The tape abruptly cut out. The memory was full. Howard sat, stunned, tears leaking from his eyes.

He went about his tasks that day like a zombie. There was no thought process involved in what he was doing. Automatically he did the stock check, automatically he cleaned the shop. All that was going through is mind was a constant mantra. _Vince is gone. Vince is gone. Vince is _gone. And not just for the day. This sounded like it could well be forever. He hadn't even told Howard where he was going, no address. All he had was Vince's mobile number, and he must have rung it about fifteen times in the space of three hours. Nothing. It just rang, endlessly, then cut off.

He cursed himself for thinking, earlier that day, that he could do without Vince. Who was he kidding? Of course he couldn't. It felt like there was part of him missing, a space by his side where there shouldn't be one. He felt like an amputee. Naboo came back in the early afternoon, and realised immediately that something was wrong. Howard was standing behind the counter in the shop, eyes glazed over, polishing the same spot of counter over and over again.

Naboo walked up to him and shook his shoulder. Very, very slowly Howard dragged his gaze down to Naboo's face.

"Howard? What's wrong? Where's Vince? He should be helping you with the shop." To Naboo's immense surprise and slight discomfort, tears started welling in Howard's small brown eyes.

"Vince? Vince has gone, Naboo. He's gone, and he's never coming back." And with that Howard turned on his heel and thundered up the stairs. Naboo stood, shocked, staring at the spot that Howard had just vacated.

**Vince's POV**

Vince sat on the sofa at Leroy's, surrounded by black bin bags full of his personal belongings. He'd begged Leroy to pick him up from the Nabootique at eight in the morning, and he'd loaded his bags into Leroy's car incredibly quietly, scared of waking Howard. He hadn't wanted to face him since their row.

Leroy had disappeared off to work, and Vince was left in the flat on his own. He felt slightly numb. He knew this was it, there was no going back. What he'd said on the dictophone was the truth. He had been getting heartily sick of Howard calling him names and having a go at him all the time. He had no idea what he'd done wrong. He could pretty much pinpoint Howard's behaviour change down to that night on the roof. Trying to work it through in his brain (which was hard seeing as there was only one brain cell, and he was what might be called work-shy) Vince had come to the conclusion that Howard was embarrassed about his little outburst after their kiss. Trying to make things better, Vince had told Howard a few days afterwards not to worry about it, it was fine, they both knew it didn't mean anything. To his surprise Howard's behaviour towards him after that got even worse. The only problem was that to Vince, it _had_ meant something. His feelings towards Howard had been growing more and more irregular for at least the past year. Sometimes he would find himself staring at him, just admiring the way he moved. Luckily Howard had always assumed he was daydreaming and hadn't pressed him about it. Vince dreaded to think of Howard's reaction if he'd ever found out _what_ he was daydreaming about.

There had been moments between the two of them when the air seemed to flicker, and crackle with tension. At these moments Vince would be on the verge of cracking when Howard would turn to him and accuse him of something or other, and the moment would be gone. They'd usually end up having a big argument instead.

Yes, it was definitely best that he'd left. He could get on with his life, and get over this ridiculous obsession that he had with his best friend. He'd be a big star, like he was always born to be. Maybe Howard would get some poetry published. Who knew? The world was a strange place at times.

**Okay, so that's it for the moment. I'm sorry about this chapter, was more of a filler really. I promise the next ones are going to get more interesting! They sort of chart how the boys' futures go without each other. Please, please, please let me know what you think! **


	4. Chapter 4

**Author's Note: Next update already? No, you're not dreaming – I'm just on a roll, haha! A nice long one for you as well, to make up for the shockingly short previous one!**

**Disclaimer: Only Nick, James, Austin and Jenny belong to me. The rest belongs to the BBC and Noel and Julian.**

_**Six Months Later**_

**Vince's POV**

Vince Noir sat in his tiny dressing room, nervously drumming his long fingers on the table in front of him. This was _it_. This was his night. Months of playing at scummy little dives had finally paid off. He'd managed to get himself booked in a small, but very happening club, in the centre of London. There would be talent scouts in the audience. If he pulled it out of the bag tonight, well then. He'd be set. He'd be famous. People would be screaming his name before too long. Well, some people did anyway, but usually only when the rent was due. He'd finally be everything he'd always wanted to be.

He was finding living in the centre of London a bit of a challenge. Dalston was a fairly isolated area when you thought about it. Well not isolated, but a fair distance from the centre of the capital. It wasn't unusual that he'd been the It Boy there, because they really didn't have many people like Vince to choose from. Now he was sharing a small flat in Stephen Street, near Tottenham Court Road in Soho. Everywhere he looked there was some young, attractive fashionista determined to make it in the show-biz world by hook or by crook. He needed to be better than them. He needed to be a star. And he would be one.

Vince looked into the small mirror opposite, and automatically started fluffing his dark hair. He'd got a lot thinner since he'd moved out of the Nabootique he noticed. His cheekbones stood out in stark relief to his face and when he stood up you could clearly see his hipbones protruding from the tight t-shirt he was wearing. But that was how it had to be. The camera added at least ten pounds, everyone knew that. Vince had gotten even more obsessed with his own appearance than he had been before, if that was possible. In the small flat he shared with three other guys there was always a constant battle for the bathroom.

There was Nick, who was an aspiring artist, but currently worked at the Spar down the road. He was a lovely guy who was very easy to get on with, but who did occasionally indulge in random fits of temper when a painting he was working on wasn't going the way he'd planned. There was Austin who was so flamboyantly gay he could have been Julian Clary's twin brother, and who worked as a hairdresser. And then there was James, who was a quiet, fairly shy, very good-looking waiter working in an upmarket restaurant in Oxford Street. Vince had been quietly lusting after James ever since he'd moved in. The trouble was was that he didn't know if James was gay. He presumed not, otherwise he was sure Austin would have made a move. And Vince hadn't really done anything about his feelings towards James because his feelings towards Howard invariably got in the way. Howard. Shit. He'd thought he was done thinking about him. Oh, of course he popped up in his dreams every night, but there was nothing Vince could do about that. More and more recently he'd found himself gazing at the phone in the hallway of the flat, arguing with himself over whether to phone the Nabootique's number. He never had.

He was sure Howard would be getting on just fine without him, would be doing better for himself than he ever would have been able to with Vince hanging around. Vince blinked back tears, boosted up his hair again, and walked towards the dressing room door, ready for the gig that would either make or break his career.

**Howard's POV**

Howard stared at the piece of paper on the desk. It remained resolutely blank. Bugger, bugger, bugger. He'd managed to land a very small column in the Guardian recently, blogging about the history of Jazz. To his surprise people did seem to read it – he got a few letters about it every week anyway. It didn't pay much, but Howard was still working at the Nabootique most of the time, and the column was one way of supplementing his income. Naboo still hadn't managed to find anyone to live in Vince's room, so it had stayed exactly the same. Howard found himself in the mornings, when his brain wasn't working that well, getting out of bed and making two cups of tea. He'd then knock on Vince's door, before realising that Vince wasn't there. It was like his brain refused to comprehend the fact that Vince had gone, that Vince had left. Howard sighed, and put his chin in his hand. There was no doubt that he was better off without Vince. No doubt at all. The shop was quieter and more orderly, no-one hid his favourite Jazz records for a laugh, he wasn't asked to pick anyone up at stupid hours in the morning, there were no rows, no-one made fun of him on a daily basis (apart from perhaps Bollo), and most of all, his career was starting to take off a little. This column in the Guardian was the start. Howard planned to be a celebrated writer of Jazz history.

More people seemed interested in _him_ when they came into the shop, now, because they weren't distracted by shiny, pretty Vince. Yesterday, astoundingly, he'd managed to get through a whole conversation with a very attractive girl without her backing away or gazing blankly at him. She'd even bought a Jazz LP! Yes, in the day Howard Moon was getting along just fine, sir. But that didn't explain why, when it got dark, he'd often find himself, as though drawn by a magnet, sitting on Vince's bed, clutching a shirt or another item of clothing that he'd left behind. They still had a slight residue of Vince scent, and Howard would sometimes sit there for hours, just breathing it in.

It was pathetic, he was well aware of that. From now on, he thought, he'd deliberately stop himself from going into Vince's room. Vince wasn't coming back, he'd abandoned him, and he'd just have to accept it.

Filled with a new flare of inspiration, Howard's pen started flying across the page.

"I'm off to the shops, Naboo, we need some more biros," Howard called out to the shaman, who was wandering around the shop floor, aimlessly picking up bottles and then putting them back down again.

"Thought you got biros a week ago," said the shaman, without turning round. "You used them all up already? Haven't you ever heard of a computer?"

"A mind like mine, sir, cannot be tied down to the modern age. Many fail to understand the subtle allure of a plain sheet of paper and a pen..."

"Whatever," drawled Naboo. "It's coming outta your money though this time."

"Fine," muttered Howard, opening the door. It was getting on for six o'clock, and the sky was turning dark. He started walking towards the centre of town, shoulders hunched against the wind. All around him he could see people starting to emerge, the nightlife crowd. The pubs were usually full by about half past six and stayed that way until about ten, when everyone seemed to head off for the clubs.

Howard bought his biros, and then, on a whim, decided to go and find a seat in one of the pubs and have a quiet drink. He'd got some paper with him – he could finish that poem that had been giving him so much trouble.

Upon opening the door of the nearest pub, he almost walked straight back out again. Maybe _quiet_ drink was the wrong word. It was barely six, and the pub was already quite busy. Then he squared his shoulders, and barged his way through the crowd, eventually finding the bar. He ordered a pint of Fosters off the harrassed bartender, and then located a quiet corner with a singular chair and a slightly grimy table. Perfect.

He stayed there for quite a while, slowly sipping his drink, and scribbling various ideas down on his paper. No-one seemed interested in him, or bothered him in any way, which suited him fine. In fact he found himself more relaxed than he had been in a long time. He ordered another drink. This was the life. Free to enjoy his own company, spend some time alone with his thoughts and his paper and pen. His surroundings, far from distracting him, actually provided some good mental stimulation. Too often he'd sit in his room in total silence, unable to write a single word. As the alcohol in the Fosters flowed into his bloodstream, Howard sat back and surveyed the pub with amusement. All these people, going through their ridiculous social intricacies. Chattering like starlings about nothing in particular, none of them seemed to have anything important to say. Most of the conversations seemed to revolve around common gossip, and outfits. All very trivial. Thank God he didn't have any more of _that_ at the Nabootique now. A group of guys and a couple of girls walked in through the doors – similarly dressed to the rest of the clientele. Howard watched as they navigated their way to the bar, which he had a fairly good view of from his isolated spot. The guy nearest to him, a tall man with long scruffy brown hair down to his shoulders, was shouting orders over the hubbub to the barman. Howard sipped his pint again, and doodled on his paper.

As he glanced up again, the man with the brown hair turned slightly to tap another man on the shoulder.

"Vince? Hey, Vince, what'd'ya want mate?" Time seemed to freeze. Everyone seemed to go into slow-motion. Howard's eyes zeroed in on the slender man with his back to Howard, who had been tapped by the man with the brown hair. Howard's mouth fell open slightly as he took in the sleek, jet-black hair that fell to shoulder-length. It _couldn't_ be his Vince. Could it? The man turned slowly, hair flying round in a shining curtain. Impossibly large blue eyes twinkled in the direction of the barman and brown-haired man. A slim, pale hand fluffed up his hair. Howard watched in shock as the man leant foward in one graceful movement to lean on the bar. Watched the full lips form words.

"Awright, Nick? Just a flirtini please, if they got 'em." His voice. It was him. It was Vince. Howard suddenly felt sick. He crumpled up his paper, shoved it in his pocket and grabbed at his biros. As he got up, the table lurched slightly, making his pint topple over and drench the floor and the shoes of the people sitting nearest him. Their cries of outrage followed him as he shouldered his way through the throng, past Vince, who had turned round in amusement to see who had caused the uproar, saw those eyes widen in surprise...

And then he was out. Out in the fresh air. He took one last look at the door of the pub, and then strode quickly around the corner and out of sight.

**Vince's POV**

Vince stepped out onto the stage and walked over to the mic. He couldn't see much through the lights, and thought it was probably better that way. He took the mic out of its stand, and ran his hand through his hair.

"Awright? I'm Vince Noir, and this is song is called 'Lies'." The backing music started up, the faint buzz of chatter in the club died down. His cue came... and went. His mouth had gone dry. He couldn't sing. This was a nightmare! He'd never blanked like this before. The music stopped. Through his terror haze he could hear ripples of laughter moving through the audience. He set his jaw. He wouldn't be laughed at. He would show these people that he, Vince Noir, was someone to be taken seriously. Not an idiot to be put down all the time. He stepped forward a pace, and grinned at the darkness in front of him.

"Sorry about that guys. One more time?" The music started. His cue came and suddenly he switched on.

In the audience, several of the talent spotters had been heading for the door. This Vince Noir was the last act on, and after that embarrassing start they'd had a definite feeling that they were wasting their time. Then he started again. And they stopped. They turned back, eyes finding the man on the stage. A slim, good-looking man, who oozed charisma with every step he took. His voice wasn't brilliant, and the song could do with some work, but... there was something about him. One scout narrowed his eyes as he scanned the reaction of the people dancing at the front, especially the girls. Oh yes. They were going mad for this guy. It might be worth sticking around.

"Hey Vince! Congratulations man! You rocked it!"

"Cheers Nick." Vince couldn't stop grinning. He was a hit! He'd already been approached backstage by three talent scouts, and had their cards pressed into his hand. Now he was back in the main club, standing by the bar with Nick, Austin and James who had all come to support him. Girls, and boys, were eyeing Vince with definite interest, dancing provocatively very near him. He wasn't interested in that though. He just wanted to enjoy the moment.

"Mmm, check out the arse on _that_," Austin whispered to Vince, indicating a very muscular blonde guy gyrating fairly nearby. Vince just grinned, and turned around to pick up his drink. James tapped him on the shoulder.

"Well done, mate. It was really good."

Vince ducked his head and then peered up through his eyelashes, his classic flirty move. "Really?"

"Really." A few seconds went by. Vince was very aware that James's hand was still on his shoulder. He swallowed, the sound sounding awfully loud to him. James leant foward slightly and then...

He was whirled around by Nick, who had slung an arm over his shoulder, knocking James's hand out the way.

"Vince, I have a genius idea!"

"What's that?" Vince muttered.

"You know my little brother? Well, he's Djing in a club in Dalston tomorrow night. I reckon we should make it a celebration – he can get us in free."

Vince swallowed again. "Um, Dalston? Isn't that a bit far to go just for a club?"

"Hey man, my bro plays some wicked music. Aww, come on. Didn't you say you used to live in Dalston? You can show us all the good places."

Vince found himself weakening. He was always like this, pretty much incapable of saying no to his friends.

"Well, alright."

Nick gave him a high-five. "Brilliant!"

Vince found himself standing outside a pub, near the centre of Dalston, with Nick, James, Austin and a large group of their mutual friends. None of the others seemed to notice how nervous he was. He didn't even know _why_ he was nervous. It's not like he was gonna bump into Howard, Naboo or Bollo in a pub. Nick pushed open the doors and they went in.

They shouldered their way to the bar and Nick started shouting out orders. Vince chatted to Jenny, who was Nick's latest girlfriend.

Nick tapped him on the shoulder.

"Vince? Hey, Vince, what'd'ya want mate?" Vince turned away from Jenny and towards Nick and the bar. He leant over.

"Awright, Nick? Just a flirtini please, if they got 'em." He turned back to Jenny, who was raving about Nick's brothers Djing skills.

"Yeah, he's awesome! Got quite a fan base, apparently."

"Cool," Vince said, grinning. Suddenly there was a commotion from behind him. People were shouting angrily, others were laughing. Vince turned round, smiling, to see what had caused the disturbance. He caught a brief sight of a tall man, in a thick green coat, with brown curly hair and a moustache. The man pushed past him, and disappeared out of the door. Vince stood stock still for a moment. It had been Howard. He _knew_ it had been Howard. He'd recognise the jazzy freak anywhere. His heart leapt. He spun away from Jenny and Nick and pushed his way through the crowd, and out of the door. Panting he looked up and down the street. Nothing. Howard had gone.

**Well. Another chapter done and dusted! Next one should be up tomorrow, if you're lucky! Lol! Reviews are love and are possibly rewarded in the afterlife. xxx**


	5. Chapter 5

**Author's Note: Thanks for all your reviews, they've all been really encouraging. So this chapter is dedicated to all my faithful reviewers, BrieStarWarsQueen, Mowgli In Flares, NoirXheart, brokenmoonlight, RoseNoir90 and x Thursday Next x – you guys rock! And it's the longest chapter yet – I just couldn't stop!**

**Warning: Angst, tiny bit of homosexual action and strong language, plus a teensy bit of violence**

**Disclaimer: Omg, I'm really getting bored of these. Who cares? Not mine...**

**Vince's POV**

He wasn't there. He couldn't be far, he'd only gone out the door seconds before Vince. Just as Vince was trying to make up his mind whether to go left or right, he felt a hand land on his shoulder.

"Hey, Vince, you awright mate?" Inwardly he groaned. Nick. The thing was, Nick always meant well, but he had no sense of discretion. Vince's shoulders slumped.

"Yeah," he chuckled weakly, "just felt a bit sick for a second. Thought I was gonna hurl!" By this point he'd pasted a smile back onto his face, even though inside he was screaming, and turned around to face Nick.

Nick grinned. "You absolute lightweight! You've only 'ad a few drinks! Come on, get another one down ya, you'll feel better. Then we'll head off to the club, yeah?" Shit. He'd forgotten about the club. He nodded weakly, and let Nick tow him back inside.

The night actually wasn't that bad, if you forgot about the whole business with Howard. Nick was right. His brother _was_ good. Any other time Vince would have been slinking onto the dancefloor with Austin, they'd perfected a dance routine that guaranteed pulling action later in the night. However, tonight he merely lounged by the bar with James, who also seemed more than happy to take a back seat.

Vince downed his sixth Flirtini. His head was starting to spin pleasantly. He thought that getting drunk might be quite a good idea. Surely if he was drunk enough the pain of seeing Howard again would just... go away. He signalled to the barman and asked for four shots of tequila. The barman grinned and started pouring them. James leaned in towards him.

"Hey, Vince, you alright man?"

Vince turned to face him, stumbling slightly.

"Sure. I'm great. I'm wossname, fantashtic."

James smiled slightly. "Maybe these better be your last drinks though, yeah? Don't want you wrecking that rock star voice!"

Vince tried to stand up straighter. "What, what you doin'? You can't tell me whatta do! You... you ain't my _dad_!" He descended into a fit of giggles. James shook his head slightly.

"Listen, Vince, you're trashed."

Vince wagged a finger at him unsteadily. "No. No 'm not. I'm just, wotsit, happy. Yeah." Despite this proclamation however, tears started leaking down his cheeks. He turned back to the bar, gulping heavily and downed two tequila shots, gasping for breath as he finished each one.

James left him propped by the bar for a moment, and went to find Nick.

"Look man, I'm taking Vince home, he's wasted. Have a good night, yeah?"

Although he could be overbearing at times, Nick was in essence, a lovely guy. He eyed Vince, who was now slumped over the bar, with concern. "He's alright, though, yeah?"

"Yeah. Just drunk. See ya at home."

"See ya mate."

Back at the bar Vince was nursing his fourth tequila, tears splashing into the tiny glass. James put a comforting arm around his flatmate.

"Come on, let's go outside for a bit, yeah? Get a bit of fresh air?" Slowly they stumbled through the crowded club and outside onto the pavement. Vince leant back against the wall of the club and started fumbling for a cigarette, which he was finding difficult as he didn't have any on him. James grinned and got a cigarette out for him. He stuck it between Vince's lips and lit it. Vince inhaled slowly.

"Cheersh Jamesh. You're a real mate."

"You're welcome."

"Can I tell you a secret?"

"If you want to, but I'm warning you, you might regret telling me in the morning."

"Nah, nah, I won't... I won't..." He trailed off, and to James's horror more tears started spilling out of his eyes. Immediately he crossed to the wall and stood beside him, rubbing his shoulder gently. Vince inhaled again and then blew out the smoke shakily.

"You'll never guess," he muttered. "I just saw the fucking love of my life, and he, he fucking ran away!"

James was shocked, but not surprised. Just as Vince had never mentioned any clear details about his life in Dalston, he'd never said that he was gay. James had seen the way Vince looked at him sometimes, but because he was so shy, he'd never made any move in that direction himself. It didn't stop him admiring Vince though. He thought he was one of the most beautiful people he'd ever seen in his life. In fact, he thought he might be falling pretty hard for his flatmate. Which was why Vince's words sent a dagger into his heart and splintered it into tiny pieces. He pushed his mussy blonde hair out of his eyes.

"He ran away?" he managed.

"Just like that," Vince muttered. "Spilled his fucking beer, and then ran."

James's mind raced. "Hang – hang on a second. Spilled his beer? This isn't the guy in the pub is it?"

Vince nodded more tears tracing their way down his thin cheeks. "My best mate. Howard. I left 'bout six months ago 'cos I couldn't – couldn't hack it. 'Im always 'aving a go at me. I always wan'ed to tell 'im that I love 'im, but never could. Then the fucking dictophone memory ran out, the only way I could 'av told 'im!" This didn't make much sense to James, but he nodded anyway. "We've been mates for years. Years and years." He dissolved into tears again. James backed away slightly and dialled for a taxi on his mobile. He had to take a few deep breaths himself. Vince was upset. It was his job to comfort him, as a friend. Nothing more. A friend. Besides, Vince was already in love with someone else, that much was obvious.

He wandered back over after he'd hung up.

"Taxi's gonna be 'bout five minutes. Hope you got a bit of money, it's quite a way back to Soho."

Vince didn't answer. Then he peered up at James through lashes that tears had stuck together slightly. James looked down into the blue of those eyes, and found himself melting.

"You know what, Jamesh?"

"What?"

"You're – you're _really_ good-looking."

"Cheers," said James, striking a jokey model pose.

"No. No, no, I mean you're _really_ good-looking." And before he knew it, James had Vince's lips on his. Vince tasted and smelt of smoke, and alcohol, and something... something comforting. Something that was uniquely Vince. The something that made Howard return to Vince's room each night and smell his clothes, had James known it. James leant into the kiss, his lips moving in a kind of dance with Vince's. Vince moaned deep in his throat, and pulled James closer. James felt the tip of Vince's tongue at his mouth, and opened to let him him. The kiss became more passionate, hands were roaming everywhere, provoking gasps and moans from both men. Then James's brain kicked in, reluctantly, admittedly. He pulled away.

"No. No, Vince, we can't."

Vince pouted like a little boy. _God he looks adorable when he does that_ James couldn't help thinking.

"Why not?"

"Because of Howard, because you're drunk – all number of reasons."

"Don't matter." Vince lunged at him again. Summoning all his self-will, James held him away.

"Look, Vince. I like you, I really do. But... well, it's not the right time. Not until you're over Howard, at any rate."

"Howard's an idiot," Vince muttered.

"Well yes, maybe." James leaned forwards to look at Vince closely. "But he's _your_ idiot, right?"

Vince didn't answer. The taxi pulled up, and James gently ushered his friend into it.

**A Year Later**

**Howard's POV**

Howard stared at the letter in his hand. It was an invitation, no less. An invitation to go and give a lecture on Jazz History at the University of Kent. This, this was what he'd always wanted. To be recognised as an intellectual, at last. His work had been getting more and more recognition over the past year. He'd had people writing to him, actually interested in what he had to say. He was now seen as, if not one of the forerunners, then definitely a major player in the field of Jazz History. His poems were also being published as well, although not the ones about Mrs Gideon – his cream poetry era. Howard fought down a smile. At last! He was making something of himself! He'd show them all, he'd show anyone who'd ever doubted him.

The front door to the Nabootique swung open with a little tinkling sound, and Bollo wandered in, clutching bags of shopping. Howard looked up.

"Morning, Bollo," he said cheerily. Bollo looked at him suspiciously.

"What Harold so happy about?" he muttered.

"_Howard_ is happy about the fact that he's going to give a lecture. At Kent University!" Howard winked. "Oh yes, the world is finally waking up, Bollo, never doubt it..."

"Whatever. Bollo get you magazine." The gorilla deposited one of the gossip rags on the counter and lumbered upstairs.

Howard sighed and put down the letter. He glanced down at the magazine. It was one of the more popular teenage ones he'd seen in the newsagents. Wondering why Bollo had bought it for him, and not having anything else to do, Howard started flicking through its pages. Clothing – boring. Spotted! – boring. Fashions and make-up – boring. Then he turned a page and gasped. The title was, 'Up and coming Stars! You saw them here first!' emblazoned in bright gold letters. Underneath, on the left page, was a large picture of Vince. It was definitely him. He stood, toes pointed slightly inwards, cheeky smile on his face, head tilted slightly to the left. He had his hands on his hips, and he was wearing a pair of tight white jeans that left little to the imagination (Howard gulped) and a flowing blue top. Underneath the caption read:

_THIS HOT YOUNG MAN IS VINCE NOIR, WHO HAS RECENTLY SIGNED TO A WELL-KNOWN RECORD LABEL. WORD ON THE STREET IS THAT MR NOIR HAS A GREAT FUTURE AHEAD OF HIM, AND HE HAS ALREADY BEEN SEEN IN THE COMPANY OF GREATS SUCH AS KINGS OF LEON, THE ARCTIC MONKEYS AND RED HOT CHILLI PEPPERS. LOOK OUT – HE'S ONE TO WATCH, AND ALREADY A HIT WITH THE LADIES!_

Howard groaned. So, Vince had become what he'd always said he'd do. He'd become a Rock 'n' Roll star. Well, good for him. He, Howard TJ Moon, would become something too. He'd be the greatest Jazz historian on the planet. It might not be as glamourous or recognized as being a popstar – but it was what he wanted.

He picked up his pen, grabbed a sheet of writing paper, and began penning his reply to the University of Kent.

**Vince's POV**

'Honestly, Vince, I can't understand why you're still slumming it here with us!" Vince looked up and grinned at Nick.

"'Cos I love you guys! Come on, where else am I gonna go? To some posh place in Kensington all on my own?"

Nick grinned as well. "Fair point. So, do we get free passes to your next _celebrity_ bash then?" Vince smiled.

"Well, I might be able to squeeze in you three. But no more than that, I'm chocka."

"Wicked!" Nick high-fived him. Austin preened in the mirror.

"I'm going to have to get a totally new outfit. And work out more. And get a new haircut."

"Why, you looking to pull Austin?" asked Nick.

"I don't know why you have to put it so coarsely, but yes. Justin dumped me yesterday, he was a right bitch about it as well."

"You never said."

"Yes, well," Austin sniffed. "Anyway, plenty more fish in the sea, eh?"

Vince left his flatmates to it and wandered out into the hallway. Someone had bought the Guardian from the local shop, and he picked it up. Sometimes he did actually like to read newspapers, though of course he never made it public knowledge. It didn't fit in with his cool, sunshine kid persona. Hearing the chatter from the kitchen, and knowing they were going to be in there for a little while, Vince sank onto the floor and started leafing through the pages. There were a few good articles, but nothing really leapt out at him. Then something did. Right in the left bottom corner of a page was a small column. It was entitled 'Jazz Throughout History' and the author... the author was... Howard. Despite the shock, Vince grinned to himself slightly. Jazz History. He should have known. Carefully he read the column word for word, picturing Howard in his mind as he did so, lecturing him back at the Nabootique.

Once he'd finished he noticed a little extra sentence tagged onto the bottom. 'Howard Moon will be lecturing for one hour on Jazz History at the University of Kent.' Gulping Vince glanced at the date. Tomorrow. Howard would be at the University of Kent tomorrow. Vince let the paper fall from numb fingers.

This was how James found him, when he came out of the kitchen to see where Vince had got to.

"You alright, Vince?" he asked, his tone concerned.

Vince gazed up at him. Without a word he picked up the Guardian again, opened it to the right page, and handed it to James. James scanned it for a while, unsure what he was supposed to be looking at.

"Left corner," Vince murmured. "At the bottom."

James's eyes widened as he read the column, saw the author, and noticed the sentence at the end.

"What are you gonna do, Vince? That's tomorrow."

"I know."

"And you hate everything to do with Jazz."

"I know."

"And you don't like Universities, you say they give you panic attacks."

"I know."

"But it's Howard."

"I know."

James folded up the paper and put it on the shelf near the door. "Well then, I'd say the answer is pretty obvious."

Vince heaved himself to his feet. "Really? What is it?"

"You've got to go of course! You can't let this chance slip by! How long is it now since you left Dalston? Since you last talked to Howard?"

"'Bout a year an' a half," Vince muttered.

"You see!" James grabbed him by his slim shoulders. "You've got to go and see him. Try and work it out. You've been mates for years, you said so. And... and you love him, right?"

Vince nodded.

"Well, maybe he feels the same! Maybe you both have feelings for each other and you just never realised it."

Vince gave a small smile. "You really think I should go then?"

James nodded vehemently.

"Well, you know what this means."

"What?"

"I've gotta go shopping! I've gotta get a brand new outfit. Come on, you have to come with me, tell me what looks good!"

As Vince bounded into his room to collect his jacket and bag James sighed. Great. An afternoon watching Vince slip into various gorgeous outfits, all the while knowing that he couldn't have him. God it was difficult doing the right thing sometimes.

**Howard's POV**

Howard stood just behind the curtain that separated him from the stage and the audience. In a few minutes he would be up there, giving his lecture to a roomful of students. He didn't think he'd ever been so scared in his life, not even when he thought he was going to die up in the Tundra. His hands shaking, he read through his notes for the billionth time, bile rising up in his throat like a wave.

Just as he was about to turn and run, the professor onstage announced his name, and he had to climb up the steps and walk out onto the stage.

Actually it wasn't as bad as he'd thought. Although there was good attendance, the lecture hall was by no means packed. He smoothed his brand new nutmeg cordoroy jacket down and placed his notes on the lecturn, then looked out over the room.

As he started his introduction, he scanned the faces subtly, trying to make eye-contact – although this was difficult for him. Suddenly he almost stopped. There, in the back row, was a face that was more than familiar. Vince was staring at him from the far end of the room, a slight smile on his face. He looked more gorgeous than ever Howard thought, gulping, as he fought to continue with the rest of his lecture. He got his act together and carried on, but he couldn't help himself stealing little glances every now and then. Every little peek was like manna to him, keeping him going. The way that occasionally Vince would push his hair away from his face, those long fingers drumming slightly on the arm of the chair, the way he'd throw one slim leg over the other.

Somehow, God knows how, Howard finished his lecture and received a polite round of applause. He bowed slightly and then almost ran off the stage. As he calmed himself in the corridor just off the lecture hall, he realised what he had to do. He had to find Vince and tell him how he felt about him. How he'd been going mad this past year and a half without him. He knew he shouldn't have reacted like that in the pub – but it was the shock at seeing him again. As he started to stride purposefully down the corridor, he saw Vince coming the other way. He was about to call out, but then he noticed that Vince was with another man, a tall, slender, blonde-haired man who seemed to have a similar, but maybe more conservative, taste in clothes to Vince. Without quite knowing what he was doing Howard ducked into the doorway of an empty classroom and peered round.

The pair stopped halfway down the corridor. The blonde man appeared to be saying something intently to Vince, who was listening and nodding. Then, and Howard's heart turned over, the blonde man leant forwards and gave Vince a peck on the cheek and a squeeze of the hand. Howard leaned back against the doorframe, tears prickling in his eyes. Of course. Of course, Vince would have some glamourous boyfriend. Someone who knew how to talk about clothes and fashion and make-up. There was no way Vince would ever want someone like Howard, especially not now he was famous (well semi-famous anyway). So, he'd come to gloat at him, had he? Tease him with his newfound success. Howard set his jaw. He wouldn't let it happen. Just then Vince appeared in front of him, looking at him in a slightly puzzled yet amused way.

"Howard?"

**Vince's POV**

Vince had dragged James along with him for moral support and James, for his part, was curious to see this man who had stolen Vince's heart. They found their way to the University and started navigating the corridors.

Vince noticed that gaggles of students, mainly girls, appeared to be following him, giggling. Eventually he stopped and turned around. They stopped too.

"Um, excuse me," he said. "I'm looking for room NY23? You don't know where that is, do you?"

One of the braver girls spoke up. "It's, um, it's just to the left and you carry on going. Um, you're – you're Vince Noir, aren't you?"

He nodded. The girls squealed.

"Oh my God, I knew it was him!" They crowded around, completely ignoring James, who stood to the side, chuckling.

"Wow, I love your hair!"

"Can I have your autograph?"

"Where did you get those boots?"

"Can you give this demo CD to your manager for me?"

Vince held them off, a little overwhelmed. He signed the pieces of paper they thrust at him, gently refused the CD, and then strode off, grabbing James as he went, throwing a, 'Goodbye!' over his shoulder at them.

Eventually they found the correct room. It had a small poster outside which read, "Howard TJ Moon lectures on Jazz History, here at 2:30 p.m."

Nodding to James they slipped in, and took seats in the back row, not wanting to attract more attention than was absolutely necessary.

When Howard was announced, Vince sat up straighter, his eyes locked on the stage. And then Howard came on. He got his notes in order, and then started speaking. Vince noticed him attempting to make eye-contact with all the members of the audience and grinned. Then Howard's eyes found his. Vince gave a slightly nervous smile. Howard's mouth almost dropped open. He held the gaze for a second or two, and then looked back down and continued with the lecture.

James watched Howard closely too. At first he couldn't for the life of him understand why Vince had fallen in love with this guy. Then he started to notice things. The way Howard's hair would sometimes fall in a messy curl over his face, and he'd shake his head to get rid of it. The way his eyes twinkled as he got more and more passionate, and the way his hands waved around, emphasising his points. Even his voice was sort of sexy. Deep, with that Northern lilt. Yes, James could definitely see it. And he looked at Vince and saw total love shining out of his eyes, as he gazed at Howard. Shit. Oh, well. As Austin said, 'Plenty more fish in the sea.'

The lecture finished, and Howard pretty much ran off stage. Vince grabbed James and dragged him out of the hall and into a long corridor. They walked down it together, before James stopped them and turned Vince to face him.

"Vince, listen. I know this is gonna be hard for you. But you've got to do it. Okay? Otherwise you'll spend your life wishing you had." Vince nodded. "Even if he doesn't feel the same way, at least you'll have tried." James leant forwards and gave Vince a chaste peck on the cheek, squeezing his hand at the same time. "I'll wait for you outside."

James turned to walk back the way they'd come, and Vince strode off down the corridor. Suddenly he caught a glimpse of a nutmeg cordory sleeve poking out from the doorway of a classroom. He slowed, and as he reached the doorway, saw Howard, leaning there.

"Howard?"

"Alright, Vince?" Howard muttered.

"Um, yeah, yeah I'm good. Hey, great lecture. Really... interesting."

Howard snorted. "You. Interested in jazz, sir? I don't think so."

Vince had the good grace to blush slightly. "Well, I mean, you sort of made it kind of interesting with... um, well, the others in the audience seemed to..." He trailed off. Howard went back to staring blankly at the opposite wall.

Vince swallowed. This wasn't how it was supposed to go at all.

He touched Howard's arm, but the bigger man shrugged it away. Vince flinched, hurt.

"Listen, Howard, I've come 'ere to say summing important to you. Um, I dunno 'ow to say it, but..."

"No, Vince. Don't bother."

Vince paused. "No, I 'av to say it! I've come all this way to say it! Howard, I – I love you." Vince stopped, eyes frantically searching Howard's face for any clue of a reaction. He saw a muscle twitch in Howard's cheek. Then the bigger man's shoulders started shaking. With horrified realisation, Vince realised that Howard was laughing. Laughing. Vince stood still, numb.

"You – you don't love me, you little tit! I know exactly what you're doing, trying to mess around with my head, aren't you? You're annoyed that I'm actually going somewhere without you, you're trying to pull me back in! Well, it won't work, sir! I refuse to be some plaything for the great Vince Noir!"

Vince was shaking his head violently, black hair flying.

"No! No, Howard, you've got it wrong! I do! I think all your writing and that, it's great, really! I'm really proud of you."

Vince put his hands on Howard's shoulders, and before Howard could do anything to stop him, Vince had leant in and kissed him softly on the lips. Fireworks seemed to go off in Vince's head. At last. This was the moment he'd been waiting for. But then Howard's hands were pushing at him, trying to get him away. Vince clung to him stubbornly. He'd _make_ Howard love him, if necessary. Then Howard gave an almighty shove and Vince flew backwards, hitting his head against the wood on the other side of the doorway. He stood, stunned, as Howard exploded.

"You little bitch! There is literally _nothing_ you won't stoop to – is there? You know, Vince, being a slut might help you get what you want in the circles you move in nowadays, but it doesn't cut it with me, I'm afraid! What, you think that no-one in the world can possibly resist the charms of Vince Noir? Eh?"

Vince was unable to speak. He just stood there, tears pouring down his cheeks, shaking his head.

"Well, I've had enough of it. You did the right thing that night, by leaving. We're better off apart – you were right. So go on and do it now. Leave. I never want to see you again, Vince. You can't just drag me back into your life any time you feel like it."

"H-Howard, you d-don't mean what you're saying. I'm not lying, I do lo..."

"Don't even bother. Just go, Vince." Howard's voice had suddenly lost its anger and was merely tired and resigned.

Vince dashed the tears away from his eyes with an angry fist.

"Fine. Fuck you, Howard Moon." He walked quickly away down the corridor, back outside to join James, back to Soho. Back to his life – without Howard.

**Oh my Lord, I am sorry! Don't worry, they will sort it out – but you know people in love do stupid things to each other. Reviews, pretty please? xxx**


	6. Chapter 6

**Author's Note: Thanks so much for all your reviews. Sorry I haven't updated in a while, but I had the busiest weekend ever and I was ill yesterday. But here it is – finally!**

**Disclaimer: Only James, Tanya, Kevin and Kerry belong to me. The rest belongs to the BCC and Noel and Julian.**

**Vince's POV**

**Two Years Later**

"Vince! Vince! Over here!"

"Vince!"

James stood, a little shellshocked, next to the man in question. Vince was posing and smiling like he'd been born to do this, but he had no idea how to behave. It wasn't the first time he'd gone with Vince to a do like this, yet he still hadn't a clue. He just kept smiling and hoped that would do.

Eventually Vince turned away from the photographers and slipped an arm around James's waist.

"Come on, let's get inside," he murmured low in his ear, and they made their way through the impressive double doors.

On the threshold of the doors bouncers stood armed with clipboards and guest lists. A huge guy towered above Vince and James. He didn't need to check on the guestlist, nor did he need to ask Vince his name. Everyone knew who Vince Noir was. He merely nodded and stood to one side.

As soon as they entered a uniformed valet materialised.

"Right through these doors, Mr Noir," the valet murmured, and walked them over to the entrance to the hall.

It was a party for a fairly major singing sensation, Tanya Edwards. She'd had a few number one hits, and was all over the magazines. Due to the fact that they shared the same agent, Vince and Tanya had met quite a few times, and had immediately become firm friends.

As they entered the hall, James and even Vince, gasped. It was clear no expense had been spared. There was an enormous stage down at the other end. Waiters were gliding among the guests with platters of canapés and delicate flutes of champagne. A bar stretched from one end of the room to the other. There was a huge dance floor in the centre – but no one was dancing yet. People were scattered around the edges of the room, sitting at the tables, chatting and laughing. Fairy lights were strung from the high ceiling and upon arrival both James and Vince were given a stylish black goodie bag. James took a quick peek inside his. The newest iPod model, a mini box of expensive dark chocolates, Tanya's latest single, vouchers for various luxurious restaurants and a mini bottle of champagne. James gulped. If every guest got one of these, and there must be at least two hundred people here already then... that was a _lot_ of money.

Vince grabbed his hand and towed him over to a table in the corner, which they claimed as theirs. They stashed their goodie bags under the chairs and then:

"Vince! Thank God you could come!" Vince grinned and turned round to face the exquisitely beautiful woman who was bearing down on them.

"Tanya! Looking good! Happy birthday gorgeous!"

"Thanks darling. God, it's good to see you." In obvious rebellion to the no-smoking in a public place ban, Tanya was dragging on a cigarette. But then again, Tanya Edwards could do as she wished. Her long, dead straight blonde hair was floating around her in a cloud, and her scarlet minidress teamed with matching sky-high Jimmy Choos made the most of her size twelve figure. She wasn't your typical starved-looking popstar, which was very refreshing.

Tanya turned her green-eyed gaze on James.

"And James! Lovely to see you, darling! And I _love_ your shirt." She leant forwards and kissed James on the cheek, enveloping him in a haze of her perfume. He grinned. He liked Tanya, she was so down-to-earth and friendly that it was impossible not to. He took a flute of champagne off a passing waiter and sipped it. Tanya had an arm around Vince and was talking intently to him.

"So I've got a few bands lined up, mainly just local minor ones, looking for a break. Then we've got Kings of Leon, Girls Aloud, the Sugababes, Lily Allen, Snow Patrol, Usher and Will Young. Not major sets, you understand, just a couple of songs each. But... I thought for the final act, we should go on and do a duet. What d'you think?"

"Yeah, but Tan, I haven't really prepared anything – and what on earth would we sing?"

"Oh anything, anything!" She waved her cigarette in the air expansively, almost setting fire to a nearby woman's hair. "It doesn't really matter, we'll probably both be totally wasted by that time anyway – and so will everyone else. Just for a laugh. Come on! Tanya Edwards and Vince Noir! It'll be fab!" Caught up by her enthusiasm Vince smiled.

"Yeah, awright. You're on."

"Brilliant! Come and meet people, work the room with me!" She towed Vince off, him throwing an apologetic look back at James as he went.

James didn't mind. It meant he could sit in his chair, sip his champagne, and watch his gorgeous boyfriend, knowing that it didn't matter who Vince talked to, he would be the one Vince went home with. Ever since that first gig, Vince had just got bigger and bigger. Now he had two best-selling albums to his name and any number of modelling deals. People just couldn't get enough of him. There was talk of him flying to New York soon, in an attempt to crack the American market.

James found his mind drifting back to that day at the University of Kent, when Vince's career was really just taking off. He'd walked out onto the grassy lawn outside, and waited for Vince. In literally only a couple of minutes Vince had hurtled back out – tears streaming down his face, his dark hair flying. He'd thrown himself into James's arms and sobbed for a good two minutes. James had put his arms around him and comforted him, wondering what on earth Howard had said that had made Vince _this_ upset.

They'd got home, back to the flat, and Vince had stayed in his room for about three days, only coming out for meals and bathroom breaks. Then he'd made an appointment with his agent and about a month later _voila!_ Vince Noir's debut track, _Rejection_ had hit the shelves. And that had been it. Vince's career went from strength to strength. He didn't talk about what had happened with Howard, and James didn't ask. Two months after _Rejection_ came out, Vince Noir and James Robinson were officially a couple. James had listened to _Rejection_, and realized the lyrics probably referred to that day with Howard.

_I thought I knew you_

_Thought I'd figured you out_

_Then your rejection_

_Turned me inside out_

_I guess I knew that_

_It was not meant to be_

_But it doesn't stop the pain_

_That's burning inside of me_

_Your rejection_

_How could you be so cruel?_

_Your rejection_

_Made me act like a fool_

_There was a time when_

_I used to call you my friend_

_But now I know that_

_I'll never see you again_

It was accompanied by a haunting melody that was bound to cut deep to the heart of anyone listening. In this song Vince had poured out all his anguish and pain at the way Howard had treated him. Many times now Vince had been asked in magazine interviews, on the radio and on television who _Rejection_ had been written about, but he'd always kept silent – merely giving a secretive wink and saying, "It's private."

Vince and James were happy together, but sometimes Vince would go off into his own little world, a place where James wasn't allowed to follow. James knew that a place in Vince's heart would always belong to Howard, no matter how small.

**Howard's POV**

Howard trudged down the road to the local newsagents, the wind whistling through his hair. He'd run out of milk, yet again. Whenever he was working he found himself drinking endless cups of tea. He'd got a permanent place now at the University of Kent, lecturing on Jazz and Music History. People took him seriously, his classes were even fairly popular. He had his own office with his name on the door, and he'd been published in a few books.

He'd made enough to afford a small one-bedroom flat in a small village in Kent, close to the University, but still a twenty minute drive away. He was happy living on his own – it suited him down to the ground. He had a few good friends in the village where he lived, and he got on fairly well with all his colleagues at the University. In an effort to try and give something back to the community he was also doing voluntary work at a special centre for terminally ill children. He went in twice a week, played with them, drove the van to the seaside for trips and occasionally wrote letters to various places asking if it would be possible for a child to do something they'd always wanted to do. So far he'd organised a hot air balloon ride (free of charge), a visit to the set of a popular children's television show and a recording session in a studio (also free of charge).

He entered the newsagents, and immediately his eye was drawn to _Heat!_ magazine, which was prominently displayed at the front of the magazines rack. The huge front page picture was of popular singer Tanya Edwards and Vince. They had their arms slung around each other, and were both grinning broadly at the camera. The caption screamed:

TANYA EDWARDS AND VINCE NOIR DELIGHTED GUESTS AT TANYA'S RECENT BIRTHDAY BASH BY PERFORMING A DUET! Howard sighed. The door clanged open again and two teenage girls wandered in. One of them made a beeline for _Heat! _and clutched it to her chest. The other rolled her eyes.

"It's got Vince on the cover! I love him!" the girl with the magazine said, a shade defensively. The other girl laughed.

"Yeah, you're obsessed. Shall we get some Haribo?"

They wandered off.

Howard moved towards the milk, picked up a carton, and went to the counter to pay. Just as he was fiddling in his wallet the tannoy in the shop started to play a song. It was a song Howard knew very well. _Rejection_ by Vince Noir. As soon as the melancholy opening bars started to play, Howard willed the woman at the till to get a move on. It was only a carton of milk! How long could she take? The roll of paper in the receipt machine was playing up. She started to fix it, just as Vince's voice filled the shop.

Finally having got it sorted she looked up and smiled at Howard.

"Ooh, I love this song," she said.

"Mmm," Howard said, non-committally.

"I always wonder though, with these sorts of songs, who they're written about, don't you? I mean, he sounds so unhappy. I should think the person he's written it about is kicking 'emselves, don't you?"

_Oh God, just shut up you stupid woman and give me my damn milk!_

"Mmm."

At last she handed him his carton of milk, his receipt and his change.

"Have a lovely day!" she beamed.

Howard grimaced back, and bolted. Once outside the shop he had to take a few calming breaths. That song never failed to stab at his heart. When it had first come out, he had almost had a full blown breakdown. He'd replayed that conversation in the University over in his head so many times it was almost driving him mad. The hesitant, nervous way Vince had made his declaration, _I love you_, that was so unlike him. The fear and hope in his eyes as he had waited for Howard's reply, and then his utter devastation at Howard's rejection. Howard could no longer doubt that what Vince had said to him had been true. He'd written a song about it for God's sake! He didn't know what he'd been thinking of – only that he'd got unreasonably angry at the sight of that guy James, who Vince was now dating, kissing Vince on the cheek. It was clear to him now that he'd probably been the one who'd driven Vince into James's arms. There had been so many times in the past two years that he'd wanted to pick up the phone and dial Vince's agency's number. But he was terrified at the response he might get. He was afraid of being publicly humiliated and rejected by Vince – which, thinking about it, he probably deserved.

Oh, it was all such a mess. Vince was with James now, and very happy, according to the magazines, which was the only way Howard could find out about his life. He had to try and forget him and move on. Only he was afraid that he couldn't.

He got home and put the milk in the fridge. As he was settling down to start drafting out his next lecture, the phone rang. Sighing he put down his pen and picked it up.

"Hello?"

"Hi, is that Howard? It's Kevin, from the Centre?"

"Oh, right. Yes. Hi."

"Listen, I was wondering if you could do me a huge favour? Kerry's coming in for the afternoon today, and we're a little short on helpers. You couldn't spare a couple of hours, could you?"

Howard cast a glance at his work, and made up his mind.

"Sure, yes of course I can. I'll be there in half an hour."

"Great! Thanks so much Howard. I knew I could rely on you."

Half an hour later, Howard was nothing if not punctual, Howard's car drew into the carpark of the Centre. He knew Kerry – he'd spent a couple of sessions with her over the past week. She was a lovely little girl, eleven years old, who had a heart defect. It was unlikely that she would live much past her twelfth birthday, according to her doctors.

He walked in through the doors and immediately saw Kevin.

"Hello Kevin."

"Ah, Howard, brilliant. She's just in the playroom. You know where it is." Howard nodded and set off down the hospital-style corridor. He reached a wooden door labelled, 'playroom' and peeked inside. Yes, there she was. He could see her brown-haired ponytail bobbing around as she went from one set of toys to the other. She wasn't allowed to exert herself much, so instead of running everywhere she merely jogged a little way and then walked. Another helper, Sally, saw him at the door and opened it.

"Hi, Howard. You okay to take over? Only I've been here since half seven and I'm knackered."

"Sure, go ahead. We'll be fine." She smiled at him, put on her shoes, which you had to leave outside, and walked off.

He pulled off his sensible brown loafers and went in to join Kerry.

"Hey Kerry!" he said. She spun round.

"Howard!" He picked her up and swung her around.

"Wow, you're getting big!" he said, which was a total lie. Kerry was a very petite, slim girl for her age, with delicate features and big brown eyes.

"Howard," she said, "Kevin says that sometimes you can fix things for people here. Things they really want to do."

He was immediately on his guard.

"Well, we try, sweetheart," he said. "But we can't do everything."

"Oh, I know. Can I tell you my biggest wish? Like ever?"

He smiled slightly. "Okay, go ahead."

"I want to meet Vince Noir!" she clapped her hands over her mouth, then removed them. "I know that's probably too hard for you to do, but it's my biggest wish ever! I've got both his albums, and Mum and Dad say they might even take me to one of his gigs! I just love him!" she exclaimed.

Howard sat frozen. It seemed he finally had his excuse to phone Vince. The question was, could he do it?

**Ohh, that chapter was probably shocking, I know. I just didn't **_**feel**_** it today! Oh well, the next chapter will be better I promise. Also, I did make up the lyrics to **_**Rejection**_**, but I'm not a songwriter, so please don't be too mean about it! Reviews are love xxxxx**


	7. Chapter 7

**Author's Note: Thank you for all the reviews – keep 'em coming!**

**Warnings: A little strong language and angst.**

**Disclaimer: Most of it belongs to the BBC and Noel and Julian.**

**Howard's POV**

Howard paced his tiny living room, staring at the phone, the number for Vince's agent clutched in his fist. He honestly had no idea what he would say. He could imagine how the conversation would go.

"_Hello?"_

"_Hi, it's Howard Moon, is Vince there?"_

"_Who?"_

"_Howard Moon. Just put him through, I know he'll want to speak to me."_

Oh yeah. Like that would work. Very likely Vince's agent would have no idea who he was, and if they did then they'd be even less likely to put him through.

It had been two years. _Two years_. How on earth had that happened? The time seemed to have flown past, and yet it seemed like almost a decade since Howard had seen Vince face to face. He saw him all the time, of course. On television, magazines, billboards. Heard his voice pop up on the radio. He couldn't get away from him. And every time this happened Howard was always filled with an eternal regret.

He made up his mind. He wouldn't say who he was on the phone. He'd just tell the agent about Kerry and the centre, and leave it at that. If he knew Vince, and he wasn't entirely sure he did anymore, then he wouldn't be able to resist spending some of his time with a sick child. Vince was like that, always kind-hearted, always helping someone in trouble. This wasn't always a good thing, Howard would always remember the incident with the Crack Fox, but it was who he was.

Filled with a new determination, Howard picked up the phone and punched in the number. There was a pause, and then it started ringing on the other end. Howard suddenly wanted more than anything to put the phone down, but he thought of Kerry, and kept it pressed to his ear.

"Hello, Starlight Agency, how can I help you?"

The voice was feminine, soft and well-spoken. Howard paused.

"Um, yes, I'd like to speak to, um, Vince Noir's agent please?"

"Who shall I say is calling?" The voice was peppered with suspicion now, Howard supposed they got a lot of hysterical fans calling up begging to meet, or even speak to, Vince. Bugger, he was supposed to answer. He couldn't tell her his real name. Quick, think, think sir!

"Um, it's, it's, Kevin Lloyd, from the Sunshine Centre in Kent." There was a tiny pause, and then the woman on the other end said,

"I'll just put you through, sir." Howard exhaled. Kevin's name had been the first one to come into his head. But at least it meant that if they checked on the Internet, and he was sure they would, the name would check out.

Another voice came on the line, this one again female, but with a tinge of a cockney accent.

"Ellen Goulding speaking. Is this Mr... Lloyd?"

Howard had got a hold of himself a bit now. "That's right. Kevin Lloyd, from the Sunshine Centre in Kent."

"I see. And what can I do for you today, Mr Lloyd?"

"Well, it's regarding one of our members. You're aware that the Sunshine Centre is a facility designed to help parents look after terminally ill children?"

Ellen Goulding's voice softened a little. "I am aware of the Sunshine Centre's work, yes."

"One of the children I look after, Kerry Dean, is eleven years old and she told me that it was her greatest wish to meet Vince Noir. She has a serious heart condition which means that it's unlikely she'll live much past her twelfth birthday. I'll understand, of course, if it's not possible but I was hoping you'd speak to Vince Noir and ask him whether or not he'd be available at any point over the next week?"

"Well Mr Lloyd, as Vince's agent I can tell you that he's pretty booked up for at least the next month..." Howard's heart sank. "However, I can definitely talk to him regarding your suggestion and I'll ring you back say, tomorrow?"

Howard grinned broadly. Forget him, Kerry was going to be majorly excited if this came through. "That's great Mrs Goulding, thanks very much."

"Have you got a mobile or work number I can contact you on?"

Howard gave her his details and then hung up, euphoric and triumphant. He stayed in that state for perhaps five seconds, and then despair set in. How on earth could he face Vince after how he'd treated him two years ago? What could he possibly say that would go even halfway to making things right between them again?

He lay on the sofa and tried to clear the panicked thoughts out of his head. Maybe tomorrow he would get the call from Ellen Goulding and she'd say sorry, but Vince is simply too busy to meet Kerry. Kerry would be none the wiser because he wouldn't tell her about it unless the answer was yes. And if the answer _was_ yes, he decided, he would make the day good for Kerry. It would all be about her. She didn't need him making a scene on her special day.

**Vince's POV**

"Vince, hurry up, I think your car's here!"

Vince emerged from the bedroom, hopping around on one leg, trying to get the other into a bright blue cowboy boot. James couldn't help but laugh as he crashed into first the umbrella stand, and then the stand-alone mirror in their hall.

"I think these boots 'ave shrunk, they've gone all small. I can hardly get my feet in 'em!" James smirked.

"Are you sure it's the boots? Maybe your feet have got bigger."

Vince paused from his efforts and looked up through his fringe, throwing what could only be described as a lascivous glance at James.

"Well, you know what they say about men with big feet..." he said, winking. "If it's true that mine 'ave grown, it must be your lucky day!" James laughed and supported his boyfriend as he tugged the boot on. A car horn sounded from outside, and then the bell rang.

"Right I'm off. 'Ave a good day yeah? See you bout six?"

"Yep." James nodded and opened the door. Vince's personal bodyguard was standing there, an enormous guy by the name of Winston. Vince's black SUV was waiting right by the pavement at the bottom of their garden path. Vince threw a despairing glance at James.

"Winston mate, the car's right there. Who's gonna attack me on me own garden path?" The bodyguard's solemn expression didn't flicker.

"I take my job seriously, Vince, there are a lot of nutters out there." He glanced to either side of him suspiciously as if a potential assassin could be hiding in the bushes. Vince rolled his eyes.

"See you later gorgeous." He gave James a peck on the lips and bounded off down the path, Winston trailing behind.

Ellen Goulding looked up from her computer as one of her number one clients, Vince Noir, bounded in. She grinned. Vince was always so full of energy, even when he walked he bounced. She gestured to the chair in front of her desk and Vince sank into it. Before she could say a word he leaned forward fixing her with an intent gaze.

"Ellen," he said solemnly, "we have to do something about Winston."

"What's wrong with him? He came very highly recommended."

"He's a little over zel... over zelo..."

"Over zealous?" Ellen suggested, smiling.

Vince looked relieved. "Yeah that," he said. "Times like this I really need Howard here to help..." He trailed off, looking pained.

"Howard? Who's Howard?" Ellen asked, intrigued.

"No-one. Just some guy I knew once. Anyway, about Winston. He's just a little over the top. I'm not sayin' get rid of 'im, cos I like the guy but... I dunno, could you just tell 'im to back off a bit?"

"Well, I'll have a word, Vince. But I have to say there are a lot of weird people out there. That's why we filter your fanmail. You get a hell of lot of freaky letters."

Vince's eyes widened. "Really? Genius! Can I see?"

"No!" Ellen laughed. Vince pouted. "Anyway, I want to discuss something with you."

"Go ahead."

"I got a call yesterday from a guy called Kevin Lloyd. He volunteers at the Sunshine Centre in Kent. It's a facility for terminally ill children."

"Okay..."

"He helps with a little girl called..." Ellen flicked through her notes, "... Kerry. She's eleven and has a heart defect. Mr Lloyd said she's unlikely to live past twelve." Ellen saw Vince biting his lip, and guessed that he was trying to keep his emotions in check.

"That's awful," he said finally.

"Anyway, he phoned to ask whether it was possible for him to bring Kerry to meet you. Apparently you're her favourite popstar and meeting you is her biggest wish." Ellen rolled her eyes slightly as if thinking that there was no accounting for taste.

"Absolutely," Vince said immediately.

"What? You mean, you'd like to do it?"

"Of course. How'm I fixed for Friday?" Ellen flicked through her diary.

"Well, you've got a magazine interview in the morning but... I think you're pretty much free in the afternoon."

"Great. Ring this Mr Lloyd back and suggest Friday afternoon can you? I'll leave it to you to sort out the details." He beamed his cheeky smile and leant back in his chair, throwing one leg over the other.

**Howard's POV**

At about two-thirty in the afternoon, Howard's mobile rang. Luckily he wasn't teaching in a lecture. Instead he was relaxing in his office with a mug of strong tea and his favourite book of Jazz Throughout The Ages. He replaced his bookmark in the page with trembling fingers as he reached over and saw the caller ID on his phone. Flipping the book shut, he pressed 'answer' and held the mobile to his ear.

"Hello, Ho... Kevin Lloyd speaking."

"Hi, Mr Lloyd, it's Ellen, Vince Noir's agent."

"Oh yes, Ellen, hi – great to hear from you."

"Listen, I've had a talk with Vince and he seems very keen to meet Kerry."

"Really? Wow, that's brilliant. When can he do it?"

"Perhaps Friday afternoon, if that's convenient for you?"

"Friday – _this_ Friday?"

"Is that a problem?"

"Um, no, no of course not," said Howard, panicking about how he was going to manage buying a whole new outfit in time for Friday when today was Wednesday and he was volunteering at the Centre all of Thursday.

"So, regarding arrangements, if you and Kerry could come to the Starlight Agency building in London? I'll text you the address, for about one-thirty? Vince has a magazine interview in the morning but it should be finished by then.'

"Um, yes, right, brilliant. So... we'll see you at one-thirty then?"

"Yes, Mr Lloyd. Have a lovely day."

"You too." She hung up. Howard flopped back in his chair. Right, first things first. He had to let Kerry's parents know, and actually ask them if it was okay to take Kerry up to London. He should really have done that before, he thought ruefully, but the idea of seeing Vince again had pushed every other thought out of his brain.

"So, where are we going Howard? Mum just said you were taking me on a special day to London."

It had been Kerry's parents' idea to keep the details of the day a secret until the last moment. That way, in case anything went wrong and Vince couldn't meet them for some reason or another, she wouldn't be disappointed. Howard had spent the rest of Wednesday and all of Thursday half-hoping that Ellen Goulding would call and cancel, but she hadn't and here they were in Howard's car, heading off to the Starlight Agency building in London.

"Uh, yes, we're just going to have a look round London, you know. I do have a special treat for you – but I'm not going to tell you until we get there."

Kerry bounced a little on the front seat with excitement. "I've only been to London a few times before. D'you think we could go to Hamleys? Some of my friends told me they've got about _seven_ floors, just filled with toys! And mum gave me ten pounds that I can spend on whatever I like!"

Howard was slightly preoccupied as they started to navigate their way into the centre of London.

"Hmm, yes, maybe. Just calm down for a moment, I've got to get my bearings. We'll be there soon." He glanced at his watch. One o'clock. They had half an hour. If his map-reading was correct, and Howard Moon prided himself on his geographical knowledge, then they'd reach the Starlight building within fifteen minutes. Plenty of time.

**Vince's POV**

"Well, thanks very much Vince. It's been a pleasure, as usual!" Vince grinned, pulling on his black leather jacket.

"Aww, no problem Laura. Anytime!" The features editor of the magazine stood up and hugged Vince goodbye. Vince Noir was one of her favourite stars to interview. He was always on time, always polite and friendly to everyone including the make-up artists, didn't ask for anything outlandish or impossible to get for refreshments, and above all, answered most of the questions asked honestly and openly. If they did ask him anything he didn't want to answer, he'd merely give a cheeky smile and a wink and say, 'that's personal.' Laura had given up trying to worm out of him who _Rejection_ was written about. It was a question lots of his fans wanted an answer to, but he was remaining steadfastedly mute on the subject.

"Where you off to now?" Laura asked.

"I've gotta get back to my agency for one-thirty. I'm meeting a fan there, she's got some heart condition."

"Aww, that's lovely, Vince. See you soon, I hope."

"Awright Laura. See ya." He bounded out of the door, trailed as usual by Winston. Once out on the pavement he stopped to sign some autographs for a few awestruck teenage girls, who weren't put off despite Winston glaring darkly at them.

By the time he got into the SUV it was quarter past one. The driver engaged the gears and they sped off towards the agency.

**Howard's POV**

Howard had been fretting about the parking situation around the agency area but luckily, after a couple of minutes aimlessly driving, he found a public parking spot about two streets away. He paid for the ticket and they started walking towards the agency. Kerry walked along beside him, gazing at the huge buildings as they went.

Finally they had arrived. Kerry looked puzzled when they stopped, and looked up and down the street.

"Why are we stopping here, Howard?"

Howard pushed open the door to the agency and guided her inside. Once in the lobby he decided that he could tell her.

"Do you remember when you told me what your greatest ever wish was?"

Kerry thought for a moment. "Yes. We were in the play area."

"And you remember what that wish was?"

She scoffed scornfully. "Of course! To meet Vince Noir."

"Well then. This is the Starlight Agency. You're going to be meeting Vince at half-past one."

Kerry took a slow step backwards. Her hands raised themselves to her mouth, her eyes opened wider and wider until they were like saucers. Howard was half afraid she was going to go into a screaming fit. Instead she stayed like that for a few seconds and then lowered her hands.

"Oh my God," she whispered. Howard watched her start to take in the lobby of the building. Adorning the walls were framed pictures of the agency's bigger stars. Eventually her eyes came to rest on the portrait of Vince, hanging above the counter. "Oh my God," she whispered again.

Howard gently laid a hand on her shoulder, and guided her over to the counter, where a pleasant-looking woman was tapping away at a computer.

"Um, excuse me?"

The woman looked up. "Yes? May I help you?"

"Uh, yes. My name's Howard Moon. My colleague Kevin Lloyd organised a meeting with Vince Noir at one-thirty today? This is Kerry Dean." He nudged her forward slightly. The woman behind the desk took in the small, petite girl with thick brown hair, and wide brown eyes. Smiling, she checked on the database.

"Ah yes. So you're, Mr...?"

"Moon. Howard Moon. Mr Lloyd couldn't come."

"Right." She tapped away for a moment, and then two pieces of paper came spewing out of the printer. She slid the squares of printed paper into two squares of plastic which were attached to a neck ribbon. Handing them over the counter she said:

"These are your visitors passes. Just put them around your necks. Someone will come and show you where to go." She pressed a buzzer on the counter. A man came out from the staff door behind her.

"Mike, could you take Mr Moon and Miss Dean to the visitor reception room please? They're here to see Vince."

Mike grinned and nodded, coming out from behind the counter. He shook Howard's hand.

"How are ya mate?"

"Um, very well, thank you sir."

"Ahh, you don't have to call me sir! I'm just Mike, general dogsbody around this place." Kerry looked up.

"Howard calls everyone 'sir'," she whispered. "It's his thing."

"Is it now? You must be the young lady who's going to be meeting Vince, that right?" She nodded, but seemed incapable of speaking anymore. He gave her a wink and then threw open a door on their left.

"Right, guys. If you could just wait in here, Vince'll be along any minute. D'you want anything to drink? Tea, coffee, squash?"

"I'll have a strong tea please, no sugar. Kerry, do you want a squash?"

She nodded.

"Orange or lemon?" Mike asked cheerfully.

"Orange, please," she whispered.

"Rightio. One strong tea, no sugar, and one orange squash coming up." He left, shutting the door behind him. Kerry collapsed onto a chair.

Howard knelt down in front of her, slightly concerned.

"Kerry, sweetheart, are you alright?" He was slightly taken aback when she flung her arms around his neck.

"Thank you, Howard! Thank you!" she said. She released him, and bounced slightly on her chair. She grinned suddenly. "My friends are going to be so jealous!" she squealed. "Especially Sarah, she loves him too." Howard smiled, relieved. This was more like it. He perched on the chair next to her.

Mike returned within five minutes with their drinks. Kerry sipped at her squash, and Howard sipped at his tea. Kerry didn't know it, but Howard was just as, if not probably more, nervous than her. How on earth was Vince going to react when he saw him sitting there? What was he, Howard, going to say to the man he'd brutally rejected two years earlier?

**Vince's POV**

Vince sauntered into the agency, waving at the woman behind the counter.

"Afternoon, Lucy."

She smiled and fluttered her eyelashes at him. "Good afternoon, Vince. Your visitors are waiting for you in the reception room. A Miss Kerry Dean and a Mr Howard Moon." She glanced up again, and slowly the smile dropped from her face. "Vince? Are you okay?"

For Vince had stopped dead in the middle of the lobby, staring at her with an expression that was completely unfathomable. It was as if he wasn't actually seeing her, like she was a ghost. His big blue eyes were wide, and she noticed his hands had clenched themselves into fists. Hurriedly she got up and came around the counter. Reaching him she tapped him gently on the shoulder, staring into his face.

"Vince? Vince, can you hear me? Are you alright?"

Her touch on his shoulder did it. He gave a funny sort of shake and looked at her slowly, something a little dark that was most un-Vince like shining out of his eyes.

"Um... yeah, yeah 'course. Just saw a... uh... spider. Um, I thought the guy with the little girl was called Mr Lloyd?"

"Well, yes, he was the one who called but he couldn't come so Mr Moon's here instead. That's not a problem is it?"

Vince smiled slowly, but it was not a proper smile. There was no warmth or humour in it at all. "Oh no," he said, "there's no problem." Turning sharply away from her he started striding down the lobby and down the corridor towards the visitors room.

Just before he opened the door, he composed himself, calming his breathing down. What the fuck Howard Moon was doing working at the Sunshine Centre was beyond him, all he had to concentrate on doing was being normal and friendly, and giving the little girl a memorable day. Somehow he thought that watching him and Howard have a screaming match, as it would inevitably turn into, would ruin her day somewhat. He opened the door.

There he was. There he was. And... shit, why hadn't those feelings gone _away_? Because as soon as he clapped eyes on Howard, all the old affection came rushing back. He'd opened the door silently, they hadn't spotted him yet, Howard was reading a book to Kerry. He had a few seconds before Howard looked up to watch him unobserved. His hair had grown longer, the curls more evident. His dress sense hadn't improved, but then Vince would have been slightly disappointed if it had. His brown eyes were sparkling with pleasure as he read the story to the little girl, who was smiling and giggling. But then just as quickly an image swam into his mind. An image of himself, tears pouring down his cheeks, as Howard's face contorted into a mocking, disgusted sneer. Cutting him down when he'd bared his heart to him, insulting him when he'd merely tried to tell him his feelings, and an icy hatred took a hold of Vince's heart.

Howard looked up.

**Right, sorry about this chapter in some ways, it's more of a filler than anything else. I have most of the rest of the story worked out in my head so I'll get straight on with writing the next installment! Reviews really do make it come quicker! They inspire me... xxx**


	8. Chapter 8

**Author's Note: Thank you all so much for carrying on reading and reviewing. Now onward with the story!**

**Warnings: Angst. I think I very nearly broke my own heart writing this chapter!**

**Disclaimer: I don't own the Mighty Boosh**

**Howard's POV**

Howard had heard the door open, but didn't look up for a few seconds, aware that someone was studying him intently from the threshold. Every nerve in his body was screaming at him to look up – yet he pretended to remain ignorant for a couple more moments. The room seemed charged with a strange kind of tension that seemed to crackle and spit between Howard and the person standing in the doorway. Eventually he couldn't resist any longer and dragged his gaze up.

Vince. Vince Noir. Standing there, arms folded, legs apart but with the toes pointing slightly inwards. Jet-black hair fluffed up around his head so that he looked like some dark avenging angel; black leather jacket, gold scarf wound around his slim throat, gold skinny leggings and red boots with a tight red t-shirt under the jacket. It was an outfit that shouldn't have looked good on anyone, but of course Vince pulled it off. Howard gulped as he looked into Vince's face. His mouth was set in a firm line, his jawline was tense. But what scared Howard the most was his eyes. Those big blue eyes which had been full of laughter and warmth on all the covers of the magazines and on the television were now icy and cold. Vince glared at Howard – and the bigger man almost broke under the intensity of his stare.

It seemed like they'd been in this position for an eternity, when in reality it could only have been a couple of seconds. Howard looked away, and tapped Kerry on the shoulder.

"Kerry, I think someone's here to see you."

As Kerry started to turn round, Howard saw Vince's face change. A huge, genuine smile was suddenly on his face, his eyes were glittering with pleasure, not hatred. Every muscle in his body seemed to relax. It was quite the transformation – Howard was impressed, despite himself. It was also clear to him that Vince had wanted to convey without words _exactly_ what he thought of Howard before Kerry had seen him. Now he was bounding forwards and kneeling down to give the little girl a big hug, all traces of his previous mood vanished. Yet his new behaviour wasn't fake, not at all. It just seemed that Vince had perfected the art of changing moods in an instant to suit his purpose. Howard had no doubt that Vince was genuinely pleased to see Kerry.

"Hey Kerry, lovely to meet ya. We're gonna have a great day today, right?"

Kerry nodded shyly. "Right."

Vince stood up, keeping his hand on her shoulder. "So, why don't you introduce me? Who's this you've brought along with you?"

Kerry, still looking totally awestruck, mumbled. "Um, this is Howard Moon, he's my carer."

Vince stepped forward, looking Howard in the eyes, still smiling.

"Mr Moon. Lovely to meet you. Or do you prefer Howard?"

Howard paused, unsure of what to do or say. Vince was now acting like he'd never met Howard before in his life. "Um, H-Howard will be fine thanks, sir." Vince gave him a patronizing smile.

"Howard it is. Right, Kerry. Do you have anywhere that you'd especially like to go in London?"

Kerry started bouncing up and down on the tips of her toes. "Hamleys! My – my mummy gave me _ten pounds_ to spend!"

Vince grinned happily. "Wow, ten quid! So you're rich, ay? We'll go to Hamleys then, your wish is my command." Kerry giggled and, clutching onto Vince's hand, skipped out of the room.

Once in the car, which was plenty big enough for Vince, Kerry, Howard, the driver and Winston, of course, Vince turned to Howard.

"So, Howard. How did you get into working at the Sunshine Centre? You don't exactly seem the _caring_ type to me." The question seemed innocent enough, but Howard had immediately picked up on the deliberate inflection on the word _caring_ and flinched slightly. Before he could say anything however, Kerry had leapt in.

"Oh, Howard's great! He comes to play with me there two times a week, usually!" Vince's tone softened as he replied.

"Ahh, right. That's nice." He turned to Howard once again. "So, how did you get into working for them?"

Howard floundered for a bit. "Umm, just because, I've done a couple of things in my life that I'm not proud of, sir, and I thought this might be a way of helping me deal with the guilt."

"And does it? Help you deal with the guilt, I mean?"

For the first time since they'd met in the visitors room, Howard turned straight to Vince and looked him dead in the eyes. "No. No, it doesn't help at all."

Vince stared back at him, and Howard could see tears start to moisten those beautiful eyes. Howard's own throat felt tight. Then Vince broke the gaze and turned away to stare out of the window, but Howard saw his right arm lift up to his face – as if brushing a tear away.

Once they were inside Hamleys, Vince knelt down to talk to Kerry.

"So here's the deal Kerry. Basically if you wanna spend your ten quid on a toy in here, that's fine – but I'd like to buy you any toy you want in here, then I'll sign a card saying it's from me. How does that sound, ay?"

Kerry was speechless. "So, so I'll actually have toy that _you_ bought for me?"

Vince nodded, smiling.

Kerry started jumping up and down. "Ohhh, that is _so_ cool! Sarah's gonna be _so_ jealous! Thank you!" Vince stood up and proceeded towards the escalator.

"You're welcome. So then, which floor should we tackle first?"

Howard trailed behind them as they wandered from floor to floor. Winston was also hanging back, but keeping a firm eye on them, and any shoppers who got too close. There were plenty of people who recognized Vince, but Winston was always there asking them politely to back off and give Vince and Kerry some space. Vince was having a ball, he was getting as excited as Kerry about all the toys they were looking at.

"Hey, Kerry, check this out!" he exclaimed, holding up a brightly coloured box. With a start Howard realised that it was a model version of Vince. Vince was laughing, posing as the doll was for Kerry. "D'you think it looks like me?" he asked.

"No!" Kerry laughed, peering at the doll. "You look way better!"

"Glad to hear it," Vince said, putting the doll back on the shelf.

Howard felt a twist of something in his stomach. What was it? Was it... no, it couldn't be. But it was. Jealousy. Howard was jealous of the way Vince was joking around with Kerry. He remembered when they used to be like that. There had been a time when if there was a doll made in the image of Vince, both of them would have nearly died laughing. As things stood now, Vince was acting as if Howard didn't exist, focusing totally on Kerry. Howard felt tears begin to prickle at his eyes, and he turned away, pretending he was interested in a model of Darth Vader. Not that either of them noticed.

Finally, after about an hour and a half of wandering aimlessly around Hamleys, Kerry had decided on a toy that she'd like Vince to buy for her. Vince peered at it, doubtfully.

"Are you sure, Kerry? You wouldn't like something else?" He waved his hand expansively at the huge toy dolls house that was standing near them. Kerry shook her head firmly, clutching her toy tighter.

"No thank you. I like this one."

It was a cuddly brown bear wearing a brown trilby hat and a green sweater. Kerry spoke again.

"It reminds me of Howard, and I want to get it because he helped organise today for me, and he drove me here as well." Howard gave a start when he heard his name mentioned. He'd thought that both of them had forgotten he was there.

Vince looked up, and his eyes met Howard's small brown ones. For the first time in the whole day, there was no sign of hatred or anger or resentment in his gaze, only a sad sort of longing.

"Yeah. Yeah, you're lucky to have him Kerry."

**Vince's POV**

It had been a very, very strange day. Vince found that he really liked Kerry, who was a very sweet girl. Several times during the day he'd remembered that she had a heart condition, and had found it difficult to hold back his emotion. She'd been like any other girl her age, enjoying a day out in London, chatting away nineteen to the dozen about her friends, her family and her pet hamster, Honey.

Yes, Vince had enjoyed spending time with her. He'd thoroughly enjoyed the visit to Hamleys, and they'd gone to a restaurant for a late lunch afterwards. He'd bought her a card and written in it, saying how much he'd enjoyed their day together and signed it. When he'd waved her and Howard off at about half past four, he'd felt really sad. But he wasn't just sad about saying goodbye to Kerry. He'd been constantly aware throughout the whole day of Howard, who had trailed behind them looking miserable, when he thought no-one was looking.

Vince sat on his sofa, tapping one foot against the floor anxiously. How was he supposed to deal with this? He'd thought he was completely over Howard, and yet all it had taken was a few hours in his company to bring all the old feelings rushing back. Their days at the Zoo when they'd stay up talking all night. The laughing and the crimping. The way Howard would occasionally ruffle his hair, the only person Vince would allow anywhere near it apart from himself and his hairdresser.

Even later on, when they'd started arguing more and more, the passion was still there. There was still a connection between them that he'd stupidly thought had diminished in the years apart. _Vince, you idiot_. Of course it hadn't diminished. The way Vince's heart would always leap whenever he saw Howard, even if he was angry with him, had never changed. He suspected it always would. That moment in the car driving to Hamleys had really shaken him. Howard had looked right into his eyes and apologised. Vince could tell that he had been sincere about it, but it was more the hopeless resignation in Howard's voice that had caused him to tear up.

He got up off the sofa, started making a cup of tea, then changed his mind and pulled a beer out from the fridge. He flipped the cap off, left it where it fell on the floor, and wandered off to the small spare room, that he and James used as a store cupboard.

It was dusty in there, and Vince coughed. He took a swig from the bottle to rehydrate himself and then sat down on the floor, sorting through all the boxes. He knew it was in here somewhere, he remembered storing it away.

_Aha_. There it was. He put the bottle down next to him, and with both hands, pulled a shabby looking large old brown shoebox towards him. Sighing, he lifted the lid. Inside was a motley collection of items. A green jacket that had been customised with badges and chains, with the name _Noir_ stitched onto it. He took it out of the box and shook it out. Without quite knowing why he slipped it on. It didn't really fit, he'd got a lot skinnier since those days, and the fabric billowed and hung sadly loose from his frame. Underneath the jacket were a selection of photos. Taken in all sorts of different places around the Zoo, but always with the same two people. Him and Howard. Howard and Vince. Smiling in all of them, carefree grins – Howard's slightly more reserved. Vince felt the tears began to fall. A tattered bit of paper which revealed itself to be an IOU for a packet of Hula Hoops, made out to Vince and written in Howard's neat handwriting. A necklace with a miniature figure of the Pokémon character Pikachu hanging from it, that Howard had got as a present for Vince when Vince had been going through his Pokémon phase. The ring that Old Gregg had given to Howard when they had got 'married' and that Vince had taken because it was sparkly. It still smelled faintly of fishes and baileys. A collection of poems written by Howard and then chucked away in a fit of rage. Poems that Vince had tactfully gone round and collected and saved, sure that they would probably be worth something someday.

His tears were flowing freely now, smudging the ink on the poems. He'd come to a realisation. He still loved Howard, loved him with a passion. This meant that he had to break things off with James, though he recoiled at the thought. He had strong feelings for James, but now he realised that they would never match up to those he had for Howard. So, he couldn't be with James but somehow he thought, he wasn't sure that he could be with Howard either.

**Eep! Let me know what you think, please, please, please! xxx**


	9. Chapter 9

**Author's Note: So, so, so sorry for lack of update recently. Moved back to University and everything's been a bit mad. Also, fell out of love a bit with this story. But now I have my enthusiasm back, so it's all good!**

**Disclaimer: Doesn't belong to me, never has, never will *sniff***

**Vince's POV**

Vince sat on the sofa, sipping at his beer, waiting for the door to open. He was dreading what he was about to do, but he also knew it was for the best. Five minutes went by. He sat, tapping one heeled boot on the floor. He was getting more and more tense, running what he was going to say over and over in his mind. Nothing he could say would make it any easier on James, he knew that. He knew that James had given himself to the relationship wholeheartedly. Vince knew that somewhere deep within himself there was always a part of him that would belong to Howard. And scarily, that part was growing stronger and stronger. A key turned in the lock, and James walked into the house.

"Vince? I'm back!"

Vince swallowed. "Hey James. I'm in the sitting room."

His boyfriend appeared in the doorway, blonde hair mussed up from a day at work, bag in hand. He looked adorable. Vince realised that he really did love James, but he could never love him the way he loved Howard. The way James deserved to be loved. He cleared his throat.

"Um, James, I've got something to tell you. I think you should sit down."

Looking slightly nervous, and crooking his eyebrow, James sat down on the sofa next to Vince.

"Okay, go ahead sweetheart. What is it?"

Vince swallowed again. "Well, I was going through some old things earlier, and I got to thinking."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah. I got to thinking about all the times that Howard and I have been through together. I'm not sure I can let that slip away."

James looked confused. "What do you mean?"

"Well, it's like this. I really do love you, James. The thing is... the thing is, I love Howard more. And I don't think I'm even ever going to be with him, but there it is. It's not right to stay with you when I can't give you all my love. I'm really sorry."

There was a few moments total silence. James' expression appeared frozen in place. He still looked slightly confused, like he couldn't quite work out what Vince had said. Then something replaced the confuson. Anger.

"What?"

"I'm so, so sorry James. You really deserve someone a whole lot better than me. Someone not so messed up. But I realised, I can't stay with you. Either I'm with Howard, or I'm on my own."

James's jaw tightened. His fists clenched. Suddenly, without warning, he lashed out, catching Vince on the side of the face.

"GODDAMNIT!"

Vince fell backwards off the sofa, landing on the carpet, clutching his face. James stared at his hand, looking absolutely horrified.

"Oh my God! Vince? Are you okay? God, I'm so sorry! I lost control, I'm... Vince? Speak to me, come on!"

Perched back on the sofa, one hand still holding his cheek, Vince smiled ruefully.

"It's okay James. I don't blame you. I'd probably have done the same in your place. But you must know, I never, ever wanted to hurt you. Really, I didn't."

James appeared frozen in place, staring at Vince. To Vince's horror, tears started to form in James's eyes.

"James? Look, I'm really, really sorry. You didn't deserve all of this... honestly, I can't believe I'm hurting you so badly."

"It's not that Vince, it's just... I _hit_ you. I'm not that sort of person, but I was just so, so _angry._"

Carefully Vince shuffled over to sit next to James. He put his hand over James's hand gently.

"You are an amazing person James. Any guy would be lucky to have you, it's just... I'm not that guy. I thought I might be, but I was lying to myself."

James put his other hand over Vince's, and tightened his grip.

"To be honest, I think I always knew this day would come. From the second I saw Howard I think I realised that you and him were meant to be together. I tried to deny it, but now I know. Vince, I really appreciate your honesty, and I know you never meant to hurt me. I'm still going to be your friend, and if that means getting you back with Howard, then that's what I'm going to do."

Vince looked away, his black hair flying and then falling back down to his shoulders. James shook him.

"Vince are you okay?"

There was a snort of laughter and then a muffled, "James, you know you're absolutely genius."

James laughed gently, and put his arm around Vince's shoulder, drew him close to him.

"Oh, I know! Now, the question is... how are we going to get you back with Howard? And if it works, I'm asking now... can I be best man at your wedding?"

Vince grinned and shoved him.

**Howard's POV**

The days had passed in a blur for Howard. He was going about his life as usual, but ever since the trip to Hamley's he literally couldn't stop thinking about Vince. His mind obsessively played back every moment of that day – all the things that he'd said to Vince and all the things Vince had said to him. He didn't think he would ever forget the expression in Vince's eyes when they'd first looked at each other before Kerry realised he was there. To know that he'd been the cause of that anger and pain...

Then of course his mind skipped further back, to that disastrous meeting at the University. How could he have been so blind? He should have known that Vince's behaviour was completely out of character for him. Instead he'd just blundered in like a bull in a china shop, destroying all of Vince's dreams at the same time.

Sighing he got out of his chair and went to make a cup of tea, a boring, mundane activity that always helped him to calm down. As he was boiling the kettle he opened the fridge and noticed that his milk was two days out of date. That really showed how out of it he had been recently. He was usually obsessive about such things as sell by dates.

Deciding that he could do with the fresh air, Howard left the house and wandered down to the local shop for a pint of milk. It was a cold, wintry morning and Howard wound his scarf tight around his neck as he walked, head bowed against the freezing wind.

He got into the shop, wiped his feet automatically, and headed for the chilled section. Suddenly, a gossip magazine on his right caught his eye. He paused, turned back, and picked it up.

Splashed across the front page was a large picture of Vince, looking particularly attractive as he attended some high profile event or other. He was grinning cheekily, one hand meshed into his dark hair – an action which Howard remembered of old. Something stabbed at his heart, making him visibly wince. He glanced at the headline.

_VINCE BREAKS UP WITH JAMES! MYSTERY MAN RUMOURED TO BE BEHIND BREAK-UP!_

Howard sighed. So, Vince had once again moved on to someone else, someone else who wasn't him. He put the magazine back on the shelf, brushed something out of his eye, and shuffled off to pick up his milk.

Upon getting to the counter, he realised he'd left his wallet behind. The milk was seventy pence and he only had fifty pence in his pockets. This was beyond embarrassing. He searched through his jacket – the woman behind the counter looking at him with some annoyance.

"I'm so sorry, I thought I had my wallet with me... I'll have to leave it and come back for it later..."

"'Scuse me, did you wanna borrow twenty pence mate?"

That voice from behind him, it was so familiar. The lady at the counter looked up, and audibly gasped.

Feeling like he was moving in slow motion, Howard turned around, his brown eyes wider than they had ever been. He wasn't dreaming. Vince Noir was standing right behind him – a bright red scarf wrapped around his slim neck, wearing his trademark mirrorball suit and matching furry jacket. One slim hand was outstretched, with twenty pence in the palm. Howard gaped silently, he literally couldn't move or speak. Why, _why_ was Vince Noir _here_? Where Howard lived? In the tiny local newsagents? It hardly seemed like the right place for a superstar to hang out.

Obviously realising that Howard was incapable of saying a word, Vince leant past him and put the money on the counter.

"There you go. Have a good day now."

"Y-you too," she stuttered, frozen in place.

Vince moved away from the counter, picked up the milk, took Howard's hand and towed him out of the door onto the pavement. The cold air seemed to shake Howard back to himself a little.

"V-Vince, wha...? W-what are you doing here? _Here _of all places?"

"'Cos it's where you live. Where else was I gonna find ya?"

"But. B-but..." Howard literally couldn't find the words to express his utter astonishment and bewilderment at why on earth Vince was here with him. Vince seemed to understand, because he looked Howard deep in the eyes, leant forward and kissed him chastely and gently on his lips.

"Come on back to your place. We need to talk, Howard."

**Oh my word – okay, sorry about that chapter. I know where I'm going with this again now but it's hard getting back into the swing of writing! I think the next chapter will be the penultimate one, so it should start getting better from here! And don't worry, Howard's not going to be let off easily! Reviews – please? Even though I don't deserve them...**


	10. Chapter 10

**Author's Note: Okay, so after all your reviews I have been totally reinspired re this story! This is probably going to be the penultimate chapter, so hang onto your boots! (or Vince'll come and steal them off ya... probably)**

**Disclaimer: Really, really not mine. Noel and Ju's**

**Warning: Some strong language, a little homosexual action, and angst. There. You have been duly warned. Don't like, don't read.**

**Howard's POV**

He was here. He was really here. He literally couldn't believe it. One minute there he was, doing ordinary things like picking up milk, and now... now he was sat on his tatty old sofa at home in his living room, with Vince wandering round the room in front of him, picking up photos and peering at objects on the mantelpiece.

Neither of them had said a word as Howard had led the way back to his house. All he'd managed to say when they got in was a strained,

"Cuppa tea?" and got a terse,

"Yeah, ta," in reply. If Vince didn't speak soon, then Howard thought he might literally burst with the tension. On the other hand, he was happy for the moment just looking at him. The way he walked, the little unconscious gestures Howard was so fond of. And also, though he was scared to admit it, the way the mirrorball suit clung to Vince's lithe form. He shifted on the sofa, flushing a little red. He could feel the heat rising in his crotch and carefully reached out (in what he thought was a careless and casual manner) to place a cushion over his lap, just in case.

Vince stopped examining the living room and perched himself down on the chair furthest away from Howard. Something in Howard's chest sank. For some stupid reason he was hoping that Vince would curl up next to him on the sofa, like he used to do back at the Nabootique. But of course that was ridiculous and absurd. Too much had happened for them to go back to the way they were. And Howard had hurt Vince too much. He knew that, but was struggling to think of a way to put it right.

Vince looked at Howard, and his blue eyes were full of sadness and regret. He didn't really look _angry_ he just looked, a little confused.

"I've got summing I wanna say to ya Howard," he said finally, after seeming to struggle with his words for quite a while. Howard swallowed but didn't say anything. "I've broken up with James, but I reckon you already know that. It's been splashed over enough papers and magazines." An uncharacteristic look of bitterness crossed his face. Howard waited for him to continue. "I got back from the trip to London and spent a while thinking about things. I know, me thinking, don't bear thinking 'bout really does it?" He grinned wryly. "Anyway, I started sorting through all our old stuff at the Zoo. Photos, memories and stuff. I realised I couldn't be with James. Don't get me wrong, I really care for him. But... but the thing is I don't love 'im as much as I love _you_." Howard started excitedly, but Vince held up a hand to keep him silent. "The only thing is Howard, is I don't know if I _can_ be with you. That time at the University, even before then, y-you hurt me so much. I don't understand how you could have been that cruel. Surely it was obvious I weren't messing you about? And I've got to protect myself from that happening again. I know it's selfish but that's how it is for me now. I – I guess I just wanted to tell you... to tell you goodbye." Tears were falling fast down Vince's cheeks and Howard's heart broke to see them.

"Vince, what I said that time, I was just... I was just _jealous_. I saw you and James in the hallway – I know you weren't together at that time and I made you run to him, but I, I thought you were there to mock me with all your success. I thought you were going to try and take away the tiny bit of success I'd achieved with all your stardom. Taunt me with your relationship with James."

Vince blinked.

"Howard. How could you even think I'd be like that?" Howard just shrugged. Now that he really thought about it, it was stupid. He knew that Vince wouldn't do that to him, he was just making excuses. He leaned forward anxiously.

"Vince, please, if you'll just give me another chance – I won't get jealous, I promise. I've learnt my lesson, I just, I _have_ to be with you."

Vince smiled sadly. "C'mon, Howard. You can't make me promises you can't keep. If you got that jealous once just 'cos you saw another guy kiss me on the cheek – how're you gonna cope with me gettin' all the press attention? People kiss me all the time, sometimes like proper making out sessions. It don't mean anythin', it's just the way it is."

Howard floundered for a second.

"But, I wouldn't mind. I'm not that paranoid anymore, I just can't let you go again."

"Listen, Howard, I don't think you realise how mad my world is at the moment. I'm followed by papparazzi _all the time_. There's one outside in your garden right now."

Startled out of himself for a second, Howard automatically looked out the window.

"There is? How d'you know?"

"He followed me all the way here. That's just an example anyway. I know you. I know that however much you insist otherwise, you will get jealous of my success. D'you remember that time you ran that man over just 'cos I got on the cover of 'Global Explorer' instead of you?"

Howard bit his lip. He had overreacted a little. "But I've _changed_. Honest, I have. I've started giving back to the community instead of being selfish all the time. When we were apart, I realised just what I'd lost. It was driving me crazy, seeing you all the time yet at the same time being so far away from you. When I heard _Rejection_ for the first time it damn near broke my heart, sir."

Vince pushed his fist across his eyes. His shoulders were slumped and he ran his hand through his hair despairingly.

"I'm sorry, Howard. It's too late. I don't think we can ever work past this."

A tear gathered at the corner of Howard's eye and then trickled down his cheek, the first tear he'd shed since he'd met Vince in the shop.

"Please," he whispered brokenly. "Please, you can't mean that. Just, just come back to me Vince. I'm begging you."

In one fluid movement Vince stood up, shrugging on his jacket as he did so. His face was paler than usual and tear tracks had smudged his make-up, his eyes still glittered with tears. He crossed the room and knelt down in front of Howard, resting his hands on his best friend's broad shoulders.

"I love you small eyes," he whispered. "I'm really sorry." He pressed his lips to Howard's, allowing himself that one small weakness. Little shivers tingled through his whole body, he wanted to stay in that moment forever. Howard reacted instinctively and clutched Vince tighter to him, lips capturing Vince's and refusing to let him go. This was what he'd been missing, Vince thought, this was heaven. All his kisses with James paled into utter insignificance. Howard was communicating his every thought and feeling to him without the need for words. The sensation was so beautiful that Vince moaned a little and without meaning to, pushed himself tighter into Howard.

Howard's hands were raking through Vince's thick hair, marvelling at how soft it felt against his fingers. Vince's slender body was shuddering against him, when he pressed himself closer Howard almost cried.

Then, shockingly quickly, Vince pulled away. Howard's heart tore at the pain written all across Vince's perfect features. Vince backed away, still staring at Howard. He was muttering something under his breath. Howard realised it was 'I'm sorry' over and over again. Then, abruptly, Vince turned on his high heel, and fled out of the door. A few seconds later Howard heard the front door slam shut.

**Vince's POV**

As soon as he'd shut the front door behind him, Vince fell to his knees on the gravel path, his legs would no longer hold him up. It had taken all his strength to resist Howard and to get out of the house. He crouched on the ground and cried openly, his tears splashing onto the dry gravel. He'd never realised quite how painful this would be. Saying goodbye to Howard was easily the hardest thing he'd ever done in his life. He'd felt so cruel leaving, knowing he was the one who'd just broken Howard's heart. He'd never wanted anything more than to stay in the living room, kissing the love of his life. It would have been so easy. He curled up into an almost foetal position, knees curled up to his chin, tears still falling freely. His slim body juddered with the sobs that he just couldn't stop.

Suddenly he heard approaching footsteps from around the bend in the path. Shit, it was probably the papparazzi guy. He couldn't get a picture of him looking like this, it would be all over the papers tomorrow. And he didn't want to hurt Howard any more by showing him how much pain he was in.

About twenty seconds later the photographer trotted round the corner of the path, camera at the ready. He didn't know what had made him follow Vince Noir all the way to this little village in the middle of nowhere, but he could smell a story. And none of his competitors were here, which meant if he did find something juicy then he'd have the exclusive on it. He'd seen Vince go into the house, but the living room was too high up for him to see what was going on. As he rounded the corner he spotted his quarry, who had his back to him, apparently just leaving.

Vince turned round, and gave the guy a beaming smile. The camera flashed.

"Hey, how you doin'?" Vince asked with the courteousness and politeness he'd become famous for, even when the cameras were shoved right into his face.

"Not bad," said the man cautiously. "What you up to in this place, then?"

Vince cocked his head to the side. "Oh, just seeing an old friend. Haven't seen 'im in a while, so thought I'd drop in."

"Oh. That's it?" the photographer asked, clearly disappointed.

Vince nodded. The man, whose name incidentally was Ian, examined Vince closely, wondering if he was telling the truth. He looked a little pale, sure, but then he always did. There was a slight hint of redness about those famous, luminous blue eyes, but he could just be imagining it. And Vince definitely seemed cheery enough.

"Ah, well. At least I got a picture." Vince grinned, shook his hand and Ian walked back off down the path and out of sight.

The second he was lost to view, Vince's whole demeanour changed. His eyes became once again sad and dull, his entire body slumped. The pain and the torment were back. As he strode off towards the station he muttered to himself,

"Honestly, with the amount of acting I do nowadays, I should get an Oscar. Or a medal at the very least. But it'd have to be shiny."

Back in his flat, Vince had rarely felt so alone. He was being constantly bombarded with calls from Howard which he had to struggle to ignore. James's behaviour was also becoming a little erratic. He'd moved out a while ago, but still occasionally turned up in the middle of the night, usually drunk, 'just to talk'. In truth, Vince was a little scared of the way James seemed able to turn his emotions totally and wholly around in the blink of an eye. Ellen clearly sensed something was up with her favourite client at the moment, and wasn't bugging him about doing interviews. She'd come up with a story that she fed to everyone that he'd been struck down by a particularly virulent strain of flu and was unable to leave the flat. Eventually though she got concerned by his behaviour and decided to go around and visit him. When the door finally opened to her, she was initially convinced she'd got the wrong flat. Vince's hair was lank and greasy, it looked like it hadn't been washed for several days. His skin was pasty and his eyes were bloodshot and puffy from constant crying. He'd got even skinnier by the looks of things, and even what used to be his tightest t-shirt which he was wearing at the moment was hanging off him.

"Vince! What the hell?"

He didn't reply, just turned round and shuffled off down the hallway, but he didn't shut the door, which Ellen took as an invitation to come in. In her usual forthright manner she strode in, shut the door and caught up with Vince just as he was about to sit down on the sofa, where he'd clearly been for several days. There were empty bottles of drink lying about along with an alarming amount of cigarette butts. The whole room stank of smoke. Ellen grabbed Vince by his skinny shoulders and stopped him from sitting down. He didn't react as such, just stared at her dully.

"Vince. What on _earth_ is going on? You disappear to god knows where for a day, and when you come back you're like this! Talk to me, _please_."

Vince shrugged and slid his eyes away from hers.

"Oh no you don't! Look at me! What happened?"

Little by little she got the story out of him, using a mixture of coaxing and downright bullying. When he'd finished she was absolutely gobsmacked.

"So, the man who came with the little girl, _that_ was Howard?"

Vince nodded. Ellen pondered for a few seconds.

"I actually thought he was kinda hot, in a weird way."

"Not helping, Ellen."

She grinned ruefully. "Sorry. Look, it's always shit when something like that ends. Both of you want to carry on but you know in your heart it'll never work. Right?"

"Summing like that," Vince muttered.

"Well, I'd say, give it time. One day all this media frenzy and fame surrounding you will die down a bit and then maybe, _maybe_ you could give it a go with him. Until then, you are going to pull yourself together and carry on. There's been a request for you to appear on Jonathan Ross in two weeks time, and you're going to do it." She held up a hand as Vince was about to interrupt.

"No excuses. I'm going to be coming round at the same time tomorrow, and when I walk in I want this flat to be spotless, and you looking more like your usual, insanely dressed, self. Understood?"

Something that hinted at a smile tugged at the corner of Vince's lips. He nodded his head once.

"'Kay."

"Good." Ellen turned around to leave.

"Oh and Ellen?"

She turned back. "Yes?"

He looked at her steadily. "Thank you."

"You're welcome. Now, get moving on the cleaning!"

**Ta da! Don't worry, not finished yet. There aren't going to be many more chapters though as I feel things are winding to a natural close. Haven't quite figured out how I'm going to end it yet, dunno if they should get together or not! Anyway, reviews, please?**


	11. Chapter 11

**Author's Note: Thank you for your reviews, they really are very helpful! Okay, so this isn't the last chapter. I suddenly got a load of new ideas for this story!**

**Warning: Bad language, slight homosexual action and violence. I don't think it's too bad, but if you want me to up the rating I will.**

**Disclaimer: They don't belong to me. Dear lord, how I wish they did.**

**Howard's POV**

A couple of months had passed since Vince's visit to his house. Howard had spent that time working at the centre, and writing a distinctly second-class column. He couldn't stop himself thinking about Vince. He'd read in the magazines that Vince was now seeing a very much Z-list celebrity by the name of Zach Cordo. For the life of him he couldn't imagine what Vince could see in him. By all accounts the man was a bully, using the rich and famous to get ahead in the show business world. But according to the rare interviews that Vince gave, they were getting on very well together, and were even going to move in together sometime soon. Howard couldn't help noticing that Vince's replies to the questions concerning Zach were distinctly monosyllabic, but he just assumed that Vince wanted to keep his private life private.

There had been a few questions about whose house Vince had visited that day when the photographer, Ian, took a picture of him in front of the door. Vince had laughed and explained that it was an old friend who he hadn't seen for ages. Howard supposed he should be glad, since although he'd had the odd couple of photographers hanging around, there hadn't been nearly as many as there would have been had Vince told the truth.

Every day to him seemed mechanical, he'd go through the same routine without fail. It was like his body was still living but his mind had died. Perhaps this was how it felt when your heart had been broken he thought to himself sometimes. Because there was no doubt that his heart had been broken when Vince had walked out of his door.

He could understand where Vince was coming from though. Of course he could. He'd treated Vince like absolute shit, with absolutely no regard for his feelings. Even before Vince had become famous, before he'd left Howard for the first time, Howard had never really behaved like a best friend should. Every day, even subtly, he'd make fun of Vince in some way, insinuating that he was an idiot, a shallow, narcissistic idiot. It was no surprise that Vince had started acting up, had become such a different person to how he'd been at the Zoo. In those days he'd hung onto Howard's every word, believed everything he'd say. And because it had inflated his ego, Howard had never given anything back to Vince in return. Instead he'd taken Vince's adoration like it was his God given right. No wonder that Vince had changed.

And yet, he'd said he loved him. Vince still loved him, he had no reason to doubt that. After all the shit they'd put each other through, Vince loved him and he loved Vince. So why on earth couldn't they make it work? So many times he'd racked his brains to try and think of an original and romantic way to make it clear to Vince that they should be together. But everytime his brain had failed him. After all, what on earth do you give to the man who's already got everything? And Vince did seem happy with this Zach Cordo bloke. So in the end Howard merely sent Vince the odd letter or text, letting him know that he was always here if he wanted to talk. He never did. Howard hadn't received a single reply to any of his missives. He didn't give up though. He sent texts regularly, every other day, and a letter once a week.

Sighing he went through to the sitting room and flicked on the television. After changing through a few channels, he found an early morning breakfast show where the hosts were interviewing Vince and Zach. Howard automatically turned up the volume and leaned forward. Vince was looking amazing as usual. He'd dressed up in yellow skinny jeans with a tight purple top and a yellow army-jacket style coat. He was wearing what Howard recognised with a pang as his favourite cowboy hat, the white one with blue studs that Howard had bought him one year for his birthday. Next to him on the sofa sat Zach. Howard couldn't help making a face at the screen. Zach was dressed like he was about to go to a funeral, black baggy jeans, a black sweater and black shoes. He couldn't look more different to colourful Vince. Actually, Howard couldn't remember exactly _what_ Zach was famous for doing. Perhaps he'd been a contestant on one of those rubbish reality shows. Yes, that was probably it. He was good-looking though, in a swarthy way. He had olive toned skin and black hair that was cut army-style. His eyes were deep brown and his eyebrows were heavy and often knitted together in a slightly forbidding manner. He was muscly too, he looked like a giant next to delicate Vince. Howard forced himself to stop analysing, and started listening to what the host was saying.

"So, Vince and Zach, how long has it been now?"

"Um, well it's..." Vince started to speak but Zach cut in.

"It's been about a couple of months, Zara. And we're really serious about each other." Zach slung an arm casually around Vince's shoulders and Howard's stomach twisted a little. Howard was also surprised. Vince would never usually let anyone cut in on what he was saying without mentioning it. But he was now sitting meekly on the sofa, apparently letting Zach do all the talking. After a few more questions, Howard was sure. Vince hadn't said a word, he'd just sat there and nodded occasionally at things that Zach was saying. Zara, the host, had noticed it as well.

"So, Vince, how's the new album coming along?" she asked, pointedly directing the question straight at Vince. He glanced at Zach, almost nervously, and then turned back to Zara, seemingly having been granted permission to speak.

"Yeah, it's going really well," he all but whispered. "Zach's been giving me loads of encouragement, I don't know what I'd do without him."

"What kind of genre would you say this album is? Has it taken a different approach to your previous work?"

"Well, it's maybe more thoughtful and ballad based. I'd say it was a lot softer..."

"Vince," Zach broke in, smiling but Howard could see the tension in his eyes. "What are you talking about? I thought we'd decided it was going to be more rocky." Vince swallowed noisily.

"Well, it was gonna be like that, but then I ended up putting a lot more gentle songs in it, so it's kinda ended up more pensive." Howard was surprised. He didn't think that Vince would even know what the word 'pensive' meant. Zach clearly wasn't happy. Although he didn't say anything, his lips had set in a tight line. Howard shut off the television. He couldn't bear watching anymore. The Vince he'd known, the Vince he loved, he'd seen nothing of that Vince in that interview. The Vince he'd known would have been cheeky, flirting with the host and talking about clothes constantly. The interviewer wouldn't have been able to shut him up. Whereas now, he'd virtually said nothing, and whatever he did say he almost seemed to be asking Zach's approval. Howard could tell by the way that Vince's eyes had flicked to Zach's whenever he was asked a question.

Howard kept trying to tell himself that it was none of his business. But he was worried. Very worried.

**Vince's POV**

"Hey babe? I'm back!" Vince's stomach twisted. This was the time he'd been dreading, and hoping for all day. Zach had got back from work. Vince wasn't entirely sure what exactly his job was, but he brought home money. Occasionally. Most of the time, though, it was left to Vince to fork out for the rent and the bills.

Zach came into the living room and plopped himself down next to Vince.

"Is dinner ready yet?" he asked.

Vince glanced at his watch. "Um, not yet, should be another fifteen minutes or so." He swallowed at the look on his boyfriend's face. He recognised that look. "I wasn't expecting you back so early. I'm sorry. Look, let me give you a massage, you've had a tough day."

Zach grimaced. "I don't _want_ a fucking massage. I want my dinner. Come on, you've had all day to do it. It's not asking much is it?"

"No," Vince whispered.

"What?"

"No, it's not asking too much."

"Good. Well maybe next time it'll be on the table when I get back." Summoning up all his courage, Vince decided to fight his corner.

"It's not like you've got the only job in this relationship, Zach. I have loads of stuff to do some days. Interviews, photo shoots, I have to go into the studio and oversee the production of the new album..."

Zach turned to him, a look of fury on his face. "Oh, that's right Vince, rub your success in my face. Just because I'm having a tough time making it, you always have to humiliate me, don't you?"

Vince was absolutely horrified. "No! No, not at all Zach. Come on, I'd never do that. I wouldn't."

Zach relaxed. "Oh, I'm sorry babe. I've just had a really tough day, I shouldn't be taking it out on you. Come here." He reached out his arm, and Vince snuggled into his side, relieved. They switched on the television and watched a sitcom for a quarter of an hour, and then Vince realised that the dinner was ready.

As he ladled it out he realised Zach was watching him from the doorway. He turned, a smile on his face, which froze when he saw Zach's expression.

"What the _fuck_ is that?" Zach said, gesturing at the dinner plates.

"It's chicken, with rice and peas and peppercorn sauce..."

"Do you not listen to a word I tell you?" Zach asked, his voice low and menacing. "I distinctly told you this morning I wanted steak for dinner."

"I'm sorry, I don't remember you saying that, I thought chicken would be nice..." Without warning Zach had crossed the small space and swung his fist. There was nothing Vince could do to defend himself. Zach's fist connected with his jaw and lifted him off his feet, so that he flew through the air and landed by the kitchen cabinets, his head colliding with one of the doors with a sickening crack.

Vince lay on the floor whimpering, just watching as he saw Zach come closer and closer.

"Do not _ever_ get my dinner wrong again? Do you understand?" Vince was too confused and hurt to respond. Zach's expression clouded, and he booted Vince twice, hard, in his ribs. "I _said_ do you _understand_?" Through the pain Vince managed to nod his head.

"Good. Now pick yourself up and we can have a couple of beers in front of the tele, and forget about the chicken debacle. I'll ring out for a takeaway."

Zach strode out through the doors back into the sitting room. Vince managed to pull himself up to a sitting position and sat with his back to the kitchen cabinets. Cautiously he touched his jaw, and winced at the pain. His side wasn't doing much better. He'd be bruised there tomorrow. There was nothing for it though. He heaved himself shakily to his feet, and made his way to the fridge where he picked up two cans of lager and wobbled into the sitting room to sit next to his boyfriend.

Ellen, when she next saw Vince, was shocked. He'd clearly tried his best with make-up and cover-up, but it couldn't disguise the livid bruises on his face.

"Vince! What on earth happened? Did you get into another fight?"

"Yeah, kinda. Some loser in town picked on me. It's fine, it'll go down soon."

Ellen folded her hands on her desk. "Listen, Vince. I'm your agent, but I also consider myself your friend. This isn't the first time you've shown up here with bruises and cuts. Is there anything going on that you want to talk to me about?"

For a few seconds Vince considered telling her the truth. How Zach would beat him on a daily basis because of something he'd apparently done wrong. But no. He couldn't face talking to anyone about this. Except perhaps... but Ellen was still talking.

"Because you know, if you did want to tell me something, you can. I'm worried about you Vince. You've lost your sparkle. Even the fans have noticed."

"They have?"

She snorted. "It doesn't take a genius to work it out. You used to be so full of life and fun. Now, whenever you're interviewed it takes sheer persistence to get out of you something other than a monosyllabic answer. We've had quite a few letters asking if you're alright." Vince was touched.

"That's very nice of them. Don't worry Ellen, I'm fine. I'm just having an off few days."

"More like an off few months," she said. "Anyway, I'm sure you'll tell me when you want to. In the meantime..." and she reeled off a list of dates of interviews and television appearances.

Later, back in the flat, Zach came storming into their bedroom, his dark brown eyes flashing with barely contained rage.

"_Where_ is my black jacket, Vince?" he demanded.

Vince started backing away slowly. "Your... your black jacket?" he asked, playing for time.

"Yes. I was going to wear it tonight. You _knew_ that."

"I'm sorry, it was in the dirty washing basket, I've... I've put it in the machine."

Zach stared at him incredulously. "You mean it's _wet_?"

"Yes. Um... you could always wear another jacket. That brown one looks really hot on you..."

He trailed off as Zach started heading towards him. Panicked, Vince's blue eyes flicked from one side to the other. There was no escape. Zach was blocking his way to the door. One hand reached out and grabbed his slender throat. He was pushed against the wall of the bedroom.

"Z-Zach, come on. Please. You're, you're hurting me..."

Zach didn't reply. He squeezed harder and then slammed Vince against the wall. Once, twice, three times. Vince felt dizzy. He dropped to the floor, and curled up into a ball as he was kicked over and over again.

After a few minutes, Zach seemed to have worn himself out. He stood over Vince, glowering and breathing heavily.

"I'm so sorry I have to do this to you, Vince. But you know, you bring it on yourself." He shook his head sadly, and then went downstairs. Vince choked and gasped, massaging his throat, tears sliding down his cheeks.

About half an hour later, Vince had come to a decision. In a way he did love Zach, but he'd read too many stories about victims of domestic abuse never having the courage to leave their abusive partners. Zach had been there as a shoulder to cry on after the heart-breaking talk with Howard. Like a fool he'd fallen into Zach's web, and was now struggling to break free. Well, not any more. He wasn't going to end up as just another tragic statistic. He had no doubt that if he stayed with Zach, he was going to end up dead at one point or another. And besides, he owed it to his fans to set an example.

Cautiously and slowly, owing to the immense pain it caused him just by moving, he packed a bag and crept downstairs. Thank god, Zach had passed out in front of the tv, a half finished bottle of beer on the table next to him. Vince grabbed his mobile, which Zach had confiscated to keep an eye on him, and quickly dialled the number of his personal driver service.

"Hi, it's Vince Noir. I need to get to this address as quickly as possible. I'll pay you double if you come right away." The driver agreed, saying he'd be at the flat in five minutes. Vince decided that he wouldn't risk staying in the flat a minute longer. He let himself out quietly and stood on the dark, rain-lashed pavement, smoking a cigarette, and trying to ignore the pain.

In five minutes a black car purred up the street, and stopped right in front of him. He threw his bag into the back seat, slid in after it, and they were away.

**Howard's POV**

Howard had had a depressing evening. He'd got a bottle of red wine in, intending to watch some television and then start drafting his next column. Instead he'd ended up pouring over all the magazine articles of Vince. More often than not, they had Zach in as well. He'd got mellowly drunk, and started crying – wishing that he and Vince could just be together.

In the end he'd told himself off, because he was being pathetic, hardly the way a man of action would behave, and gone to bed.

He was in the middle of a delicious dream. Vince had crept into his bedroom and was straddling him on the bed. He was saying he loved him, that the last meeting had all been a terrible mistake. His dark hair was falling across those dazzling blue eyes and he was biting his lip, deliberately seductive.

Slowly, teasingly, he'd leaned down and their lips met. They kissed passionately, tongues duelling, moans escaping both of them. They'd rolled about the bed in a frenzy of desire, Howard running his hands through Vince's mane of hair, enjoying the reaction he was eliciting from the younger man. Then Vince's nimble fingers had started creeping their way south, trailing a line down his chest and then into the waistband of his plaid pyjama trousers. Howard gasped and moaned... and woke up.

His front doorbell was ringing. He was sure of it. He shook his head from side to side, sadly chasing the dream away, making sure he wasn't still asleep. No. The doorbell was definitely ringing. Blearily he checked the time on the clock by the bed. It was two a.m. Who on _earth_ would be ringing his bell at this time of night?

Swinging his legs out of bed, he pulled on his dressing gown, and staggered downstairs, calling,

"I'll be just a minute, hang on." He reached the door and pulled it open.

His mouth fell open.

Standing there on his porch, the light from the hallway illuminating his face and body, was Vince Noir.

But it wasn't the Vince he remembered. This Vince looked beaten and broken. He was wearing dowdy clothing, and was clutching a bag in his fist. Howard's gaze travelled over his face, and he gasped.

Vince's left eye was a cornocopia of blue and purple, his eye had almost swollen shut. The right side of his lip was cut, and was dribbling a little blood. Other bruises decorated his jawline and cheeks. His eyes were dull, but they sparked at the sight of him.

"Howard? I'm sorry, but... can I come in?"

**Argh! I'm really sorry, I can't seem to stop torturing them. Maybe I should get some help...**

**Anyway, I really, really love reviews. So go on, press the button. You know you want to. Reviewers will be rewarded with Ben and Jerry's ice cream. Virtual, by the way.**


	12. Chapter 12

**Author's Note: Hey all, I'm back! I know there are a few people who are a little confused about what's happening with Vince right now, so I hope this chapter goes some way to explaining it. I got my inspiration for some the events in this chapter from the film 'Love Actually' and the relationship between Hugh Grant's character and the American President. Not sure if it'll work, but reviews would be lovely anyway!**

**Warnings: Contains angst, but also a lovely bit of fluff for you, just because things were getting very depressing!**

**Disclaimer: Jonathan Ross does not belong to me, he belongs to himself. Likewise Noel and Julian.**

**Howard's POV**

Howard literally couldn't speak for at least a few seconds. He couldn't believe that this was Vince Noir standing before him. But then Vince spoke, and Howard snapped to attention.

"Vince? Come in, come on..." Gently he took Vince's skinny shoulder and manoeuvered him inside. Taking Vince's bag and putting it by the stairs he led Vince up to the sitting room, sat him down, and immediately made them both mugs of sweet tea.

Vince didn't say anything for a while and Howard knew better than to push him. He simply sat and sipped his tea, waiting for Vince to make the first move. The man in question sat on the sofa, clutching his mug between his hands and staring blankly at the wall. The minutes ticked by. Howard's mind was going into overdrive. A horrible suspicion was forming in his mind as to why exactly Vince looked like this, and why he'd turned up in the early hours of the morning at Howard's front door. Howard reflected on all the interviews he'd read and seen with Vince and Zach, and slowly put two and two together. He could feel the anger building up in his veins, even though he didn't even know if his hunch was correct yet. It didn't matter. It was enough that someone had done this to his best friend. It didn't matter who it was.

"I'm sorry, Howard," Vince eventually said quietly, still staring at the wall.

Howard had got so used to the silence that he jumped and narrowly avoided spilling scalding hot tea all over his dressing gown. Was that a hint of a smile he saw in the corner of Vince's mouth?

"What are you sorry for, Vince?" Howard asked, once he'd got his breath back.

"For turning up here, waking you up, pestering you still, especially after what happened a couple of months ago."

"Listen to me Vince. I respect your decision and your honesty with all that you told me last time. But I'm not just going to switch off my feelings for you like a tap. I've been enough of an idiot doing that in the past, and I'm not going to do it again. I love you. And that means that even though you think we can't be together, I'm not going to abandon you. I've let you know that I'm always here for you, and to be honest I'm honoured that you decided to come here for help. So, come on. Stop with the needless apologies. What is it?"

Vince took a deep breath. "Zach," he said. That was it, but that was enough. Howard felt the anger return to his body. For the first time Vince looked at him.

"I've been so pathetic, Howard. You'd barely have known me these last few months. I got so upset and down about that conversation between us that, I don't know, I guess I let my barriers down. I needed someone to love me... _anyone_. It just so happened that Zach was around at a party I went to. He was sweet, he listened to me when I moaned to him... it all happened so fast. One minute we were having fun and the next minute we were living together. I'm not entirely sure how it happened." He took another breath. "I didn't notice it, not at first. Little things started to change. He'd stay out late and not let me know where he was, he started drinking more. The papers and magazines all wanted us to do joint interviews and he was really keen on doing that. Then... I don't know..." he trailed off. Tears threatened to spill from his eyes. Howard leaned forward.

"Come on, little man. You can tell me."

"I'm just... I'm ashamed, Howard. I never thought I'd let myself get into this type of situation. I mean... I'm the Prince of Camden, right?"

Howard smiled slightly. "Right."

"Well, the first time it happened, I was shocked but assumed it was a one off. And to be honest, I was terrified of leaving him 'cos then it's like admitting I'd failed. That I was a failure. And you know the papers would leap on something like that instantly. I was scared, Howard. I was so scared. So I kept quiet. And it got worse. I was a fool to think it wouldn't. It became a more regular thing, virtually on a daily basis. I kept my mouth shut in interviews both on and off the screen. I tried not to do anything to annoy him. I changed myself and who I was just to try and fit in with him..." Vince's clearly fragile emotions broke and he didn't continue, merely put his mug of tea carefully down on the side and then put his hands over his eyes. Howard immediately crossed to his sofa and sat down next to him. He was unsure about what he should do, he'd never been in a situation like this before. Should he cuddle him, give him a pat... what? Eventually he settled for an awkward pat on the shoulder.

"Vince, I can't even begin to imagine what the last few months have been like for you but... but I'm really proud of you." Vince lifted his head slightly.

"What?"

"I'm proud of you. For having the strength to come here and talk to me about it. I know it can't have been easy for you. And okay, so you might be a little... um... less colourfully dressed than usual, and you haven't got the entire Boots make-up counter on your face, but you're still there. You're just more hidden than usual, am I right, sir?"

Vince turned and looked him full in the eyes, giving him a watery smile.

"Yeah, you're right Howard. For once."

"Oi!" Howard poked Vince in the shoulder. Vince grinned and poked him back.

"I know you're stronger than this, Vince. You've taken the first step, you've got away from Zach. Now you need to cut all ties with him, you can't ever go back. And for what he's done to you, I feel like I want to go round there and pound him into the dust, sir." Howard's face had flushed slightly red, and his fingers had curled into a fist.

"Thanks, Howard. But that's not necessary." Vince dashed a tear away from his eye and sat up a little straighter. "I think I might have an idea. I'm not sure yet, but it would be absolutely genius. You're right. I am still here. I don't have to take crap like this from someone like Zach. I mean, he owns sandals. _Sandals_, Howard," he repeated, just in case his best friend hadn't got his full meaning. Howard looked vaguely affronted.

"Hey! I have three pairs of sandals sir, all of them useful and practical in various ways."

Vince patted him. "Yes, but Howard, you're a special case."

Howard tried to be annoyed, but found he couldn't. He was just happy that Vince, even if he wasn't laughing, was at least getting to somewhere near his usual self.

"Okay, so what is this plan of yours then?"

Vince looked mysterious and tapped his nose. "Wait and see, Howard, wait and see. Although you might wanna watch Wossy this Friday night. I'm just saying." Understanding started filtering through in Howard's brain.

"You and Zach are on Jonathan Ross this Friday aren't you? But Vince, that's three days away. How on earth are you going to keep Zach on side till then?"

Vince shrugged. "I'll manage it. Coming here has done me the world of good, Howard. If it weren't for you, I'd probably still be there. I'll try and keep 'im happy till Friday. Cos then he's really gonna know what it means when you mess with Vince Noir. Right?"

Howard smiled. "Right."

**Vince's POV**

Howard had given him the bed, which was a double and had hideous yellowy green sheets. Vince stripped down to his boxers and t-shirt and crept in. The bedclothes smelt reassuringly of Howard, a hint of soap, mints and an element of the pine-fresh cologne he used. Vince lay on his back, staring at the ceiling, trying to drift off to sleep. Suddenly there was a tap at the door, and Howard shuffled in, a glass of water in his hand.

"Sorry, I... I thought you might want a drink. I didn't wake you did I?"

Vince propped himself up on his elbow to take the glass. "Nah, cheers Howard."

Howard nodded his head curtly. He'd just inadvertently noticed the way that Vince's t-shirt had ridden up when he'd propped himself up, revealing an inch or so of pale skin, marred only by the livid red mark of the Nicky Clarke straighteners. He flushed, embarrassed and turned towards the door.

"Right, well, you're welcome. See you in the morning." He'd just got the door when Vince spoke again.

"Howard, this is ridiculous. The sofas are well small. Come and sleep in the bed, there's plenty of room for ya."

Howard fought with himself. He didn't want to refuse and yet he was afraid to accept. It was reason versus desire. Desire won. Slowly he turned around and slid in next to Vince, lying rigidly on his back. The mattress moved as Vince leaned across and pecked him on the cheek.

"Night, Howard. Thanks for everything."

After Vince had fallen asleep, Howard found himself relaxing slightly, and was able to turn over to stare at the younger man. He'd fallen asleep on his back but with his head facing Howard, one arm flung up behind his head near the headboard, and the other resting on his stomach.

"Night Vince. Love you." Howard turned over and fell asleep.

Vince did a fairly good job of avoiding Zach over the next few days, while still pretending everything was fine. Zach never realised that Vince had left that night, merely assuming that he'd left early in the morning for some meeting with Ellen, a theory that Vince had been only too happy to confirm.

Friday morning, Vince came downstairs and made himself breakfast. A few minutes later Zach appeared. He walked through the door, and stared at Vince.

"You alright?" Vince asked through a mouthful of Coco Pops.

"Where's my breakfast?" Zach asked quietly.

"In the cupboard, I imagine. Or the breadbin. I didn't know when you were getting up." Vince's words appeared calm, but he was a little shaky inside. He was taking a chance, assuming that Zach wouldn't hit him because he knew it was Jonathan Ross tonight, and a fresh bruise on Vince's face would be difficult for the make-up women to cover up. Sure enough, even though it was clear that Zach was struggling with his anger, he eventually moved to the cupboards and started searching for his morning cereal.

"You'll pay for that later," he growled quietly at Vince, sitting down with his breakfast. Vince didn't say anything.

"Oh, by the way, Jonathan Ross's show tonight is being broadcast live. Isn't that cool?" Vince chirped. Zach glanced at him suspiciously.

"Yeah, I guess."

"Should be interesting," Vince said, getting up and putting his bowl and spoon on the side. Zach looked up.

"Why?"

"Oh, no reason." Zach grunted and went back to his breakfast. Vince went upstairs to start picking out his outfit.

Howard settled himself down on the sofa, a glass of red wine in one hand and the remote control in the other. For Vince's sake he hoped this worked. It was a fairly outrageous plan, very audacious. But then, that was Vince, Howard thought fondly. The _real _Vince. _His_ Vince. The adverts stopped, and the theme music came on. They'd found out that the show was being broadcast live, an advantage because they wouldn't have nearly as much time to edit what may or may not happen.

Jonathan Ross sat behind his desk, doing his little bit of up-front spiel, and Howard tried not to get too annoyed. He was tense, he was tapping his foot on the carpet and drinking the wine far too quickly.

Finally, finally, Jonathan Ross introduced Vince and Zach, and stood up to welcome them on. Vince had dressed to the max, in a fluffy white poncho with gold stars and gold skinny jeans with white cowboy boots. A gold cowboy hat finished off the look. Zach, by contrast, again looked like he was going to a funeral. Vince had dark sunglasses on, as the damage to his eye was too severe to be covered up by the make-up team. He also had his favourite silver bag slung across his shoulder.

Jonathan reached them both, shook them by the hand. He was noticably warmer to Vince, only holding Zach's hand for the minimum amount of time required.

"So! Vince, Zach, take a seat, take a seat."

"Thanks Jonathan," Vince chirped, sitting down on the side nearest to Jonathan's desk. Zach sat down next to him and took his hand. Howard fumed inwardly, but Vince couldn't have looked any calmer.

"So, boys, how's it all going?"

Zach smiled widely at Jonathan. "It's going really well at the moment. We couldn't be happier together, right Vince?"

Howard held his breath. Zach turned to his boyfriend, smiling. Jonathan looked at Vince, waiting for the usual mumble of agreement. Howard realised he was drumming his fingers on the table and forced himself to stop. Vince gave a slight smile, but there was no warmth in it.

"Well, Jonathan, you know I'd love to say it was all going wonderfully, but I'd be lying I'm afraid." Howard swallowed. This was it. Jonathan looked confused, Zach looked angry. Howard could hear the audience muttering out of view of the camera.

"I was trying to convince myself it was all going fine, when it couldn't be worse really, Jonathan. It couldn't be worse." Howard definitely detected a slight tremor in Vince's voice, but his face remained as inscrutable as ever.

Jonathan leaned towards Vince, clearly sensing a story. Zach appeared to be frozen.

"What do you mean, Vince?"

"Well. It became evident to me that Zach was a bully and a loser within the first few weeks of our 'relationship'. And it got worse from there. I wore dark glasses today, not because I'm a rock 'n' roll dick, but because of this..." and he slowly took off his sunglasses. Jonathan suppressed his gasp, but the audience weren't so restrained. On camera, Vince's black eye looked even worse. "Zach did this to me just a few days ago. Why? Because, I washed his black jacket when he'd wanted to wear it that night. But that night I had a revelation. I realised that I _didn't_ love Zach, and that I _didn't_ deserve to be treated like that. I packed up some stuff and went to stay with a friend for the night. He managed to make me see that I was worth a lot more. And I realised also that I owed it to my fans and friends to stand up for myself. I've spent the last few days wondering exactly how I would break away from Zach and this twisted relationship I've got myself into, and I realised this was the perfect opportunity. Because this eye isn't the worst of it. The make-up team have done their best with the other bruises, but I gave a few photos to your tech guys, Jonathan." Jonathan himself was gobsmacked and could only turn silently to look at the large screen behind him. Flashed up on the screen were close-up photos of Vince's face from that night, complete with bruises and cuts all along his jawline.

"Those photos were taken by the friend I stayed with, and they'll be going straight to the police after this show. I guess I just wanted to show my fans that if they happen to be going through a similar thing, a similar abusive relationship, that they don't have to take it. This is one the hardest things I've ever done, but it was the right thing to do. People who hit and abuse other people are essentially cowards, which is exactly what Zach is."

Howard released the breath he'd been holding, and took a large gulp of wine. Jonathan seemed to recover himself slightly. He turned in his seat and held his hands up for silence from what sounded like a very angry crowd, with all the anger directed at Zach.

As for the man himself, he was sitting like a statue on the sofa, staring at the photos of Vince's face on the screen. Very slowly he dragged his gaze down to fixate on Vince, who was sitting looking at him, nervous but defiant.

Zach opened his mouth like he was about to say something. Then his eyes flicked around the studio, taking in the angry audience and all the security men. He looked at Vince once more, and then jumped up and ran out of the studio.

The next day all the papers and magazines were screaming the news from their headlines. The pictures of Vince's bruised face covered almost every front page. Vince had gone to stay with Tanya Edwards, who had called Vince immediately after the show and offered him any help she could offer. No one knew what had happened to Zach.

Howard had received a phone call from Vince that night. Vince was shaken, naturally, but seemed a lot happier. He said he was going to stay in London with Tanya and sort things out for a few days, but that he'd be down to see Howard when things had calmed down a bit.

A few photographers and members of the press had apparently put two and two together, maybe from what Ian had been saying, and had found where Howard lived. They shouted questions at him whenever he left the house, but Howard didn't answer. His Vince was safe, and that was all that mattered to him.

**Erm... not entirely sure how that turned out. I **_**think**_** I did it justice but it did end up being a very hard chapter to write. I know it's obviously a pretty tough topic to cover, so I hope it was alright. I wanted to show Vince as having these moments of weakness (which you rarely see on Boosh!) but that his natural spirit would always triumph in the end. Any thoughts or comments on how you think things should progress will always be very welcome. Much love!**


	13. Chapter 13

**Author's Note: Sorry, sorry, a thousand times for lateness of this update. I'm afraid I was struck down by the customary Christmas time flu, and also had deadlines at Uni to cope with. But updates should be more regular now, and thank you for all your lovely reviews on the last chapter.**

**Warning: Homosexual action. If anyone is offended by this, don't read it! Also, if you feel the rating should go up, do tell me. I don't think it's very graphic, but you be the judge!**

**Disclaimer: Belongs to Noel and Julian**

**Vince's POV**

The furore surrounding Vince's dramatic revelation took its time to die down. For weeks it was all the magazines, papers, radio and television shows could talk about. Vince, after all, was one of Britain's biggest superstars. The media frenzy had made it impossible for Vince to go and see Howard in person, his every move was followed and analysed. Consequently he'd spent most of his time at Tanya's house or with Ellen, his agent, in her office. They'd decided to release a brief statement to the police and a few magazines but other than that Vince was keeping silent. There might be a time in the future when he would do interviews about Zach, but that time was quite a way off.

Vince spoke to Howard on the phone nearly every night. Gradually, piece by piece, they were almost back to the way they were at the Zoo. Both of them realised that they were equally to blame for the way they had behaved to each other over the past few years. Vince had become obsessed with his image even more than usual, consequently ignoring and abandoning Howard when Howard needed him. Howard had become resentful and bitter towards Vince, constantly insulting his intelligence and taking him for granted. Their conversations now were peppered with the same, light-hearted banter and bickering that had formed so much of their relationship while they worked in the Zoo. Although there were fairly major differences. Occasionally there were uncomfortable silences when they accidentally strayed onto the subject of how they'd treated each other. More often though, Vince thought, the silences were some form of deep sexual tension. He'd scoffed at Howard when Howard had mentioned it on the roof all those years ago, but it was true. There always had been an underlying tension between them, they just hadn't realised it. Or _refused_ to realise it.

But Vince had spent several sleepless nights recently imagining that Howard was next to him, _wishing_ that he was next to him. He missed Howard's solid, comforting presence. The occasions when he did manage to sleep he often woke up the next morning with a fairly embarrassing mess all over his sheets. His subconscious desires, suppressed everyday, made a bid for freedom in his dreams. He didn't think he could take it much longer, and people were starting to notice. Tanya, of course, realised that he was washing his sheets far more often than was normal, and Ellen, ever observant, noticed that her client went into little daydreams, his eyes dreamy and longing. She hadn't confronted him about it yet, sensing that it was still somehow new and raw, but she would have to soon.

It was about a month after the incident with Zach, and Britain's media was moving onto more interesting subjects, although Vince was still followed it wasn't anywhere near as bad as it had been. He hadn't been to any events since it had all started, preferring to stay in the house watching television or messing around with new looks in his room. Tanya, ever patient, hadn't pushed him, clearly realising he needed a bit of space, but the time had come for him to end his self-enforced exile from the public. She walked into her sumptuous living room and found Vince in his usual place, on the sofa, flicking through the many television channels, a Barcadi Breezer held loosely in one hand, the remote in the other.

"Vince?"

He twisted round, and gave her a beaming smile.

"Hey, Tanya. Fancy watching a bit of t.v.? There's this new programme I've discovered, a bunch of people are in this jungle, and they're forced to eat gross stuff and do all kinds of tasks and stuff. Genius."

"Yeah, Vince, that's 'I'm a Celebrity Get Me Out of Here', it's fairly popular, been on for a while."

Vince looked faintly nonplussed. "These people are celebrities?" He gestured at the group of depressed looking people on the screen. "How come I've never met any of 'em?"

"Well, they're kinda, washed-up celebrities most of the time. Doing it to restart their career."

"Oh. Well, d'you fancy watching?"

She smiled at him. "Nah, I'm alright. Actually, I was wondering, how d'you fancy coming to this party I'm hosting tonight? Should be cool, just a few people, not too many."

His face took on that look she recognised all too well, the look of people desperately searching for an excuse not to go. "Erm, well, thing is, Tan, I'm kinda busy..."

"Vince. Come on. You haven't really left the house for a month. The paparazzi aren't that interested anymore. And you've got to come out sometime. This is the perfect opportunity. Not many people, low-key atmosphere. And hey, you've gotta let Zach know what he's missing, right? Turn up with some drop-dead gorgeous date and you're set."

He grinned wryly. "Sounds great, Tan, but where am I gonna get a drop-dead gorgeous date at..." he glanced at the clock, "twenty past four?"

Tanya looked fairly coy. "I dunno... how about, oh what's his name, Howard?"

Vince dropped the remote.

"What?" His voice had taken on the high pitch it did when he was surprised or upset or angry.

"Howard. I'm not sure who he is, but I've heard you talking on the phone to him almost ever night. I'm not an idiot, Vince. This guy's important to you. Also sounds like you've got history from your conversations. It wouldn't by any chance be the guy you wrote 'Rejection' about, would it?"

It sometimes astonished Vince how perceptive Tanya could be. He opened his mouth and shut it again, looking adorably confused.

"Tanya, you don't understand, I'm not sure this would be Howard's thing... he's not used to it, he hates parties, he hates our kind of music, he..."

"Bollocks. Ring him up, see if he's interested. Bet you anything he is."

"No, it's complicated, it'd be leading him on or somefing..."

She cocked her head, blonde hair falling over her big green eyes. "Vince, correct me if I'm wrong, but the term 'leading on' indicates that they don't feel the same person about the other person, right?"

He nodded.

"Well, then. Don't even try to tell me that you don't love this Howard guy." Vince opened his mouth. "_Don't_. It's obvious. Yeah, you may seem to people who don't know you that well, happy, but it doesn't fool me. There's something missing, you only have that sparkle in your eye when you're talking _to_ him or talking _about_ him." Vince shut his mouth. Tanya fished her mobile from her jeans pocket. "Ring him," she commanded. "Party starts at eight. We can pick him up from anywhere you like. My driver's very flexible," she added somewhat smugly.

There was a frozen moment with Tanya's slim hand outstretched, her tiny pink mobile in her palm. Vince was staring at the phone, dark hair that had grown a lot longer than he usually let it, falling over his luminous eyes. Tanya's green eyes narrowed.

Sighing, but with an excited smile tugging at the corner of his lips, Vince reached out and took the phone from her hand. Tanya grinned, satisfied that her work was done. She edged towards the door, and then turned and saw Vince punching in a number, then holding the phone to his ear, brushing his hair out of his eyes as he did so.

"Hey, Howard, it's me." Vince turned his head, and saw Tanya hovering at the door. Scowling he waved her away jokily. Grinning she left the room.

**Howard's POV**

Howard was watching television in his living room, flicking through the channels randomly. 'I'm a Celebrity' was on, and he dropped the remote. For some reason he had a weird fascination with this programme.

It didn't matter what he did, there was this constant ache inside of him. It was with him when he went about his business in the day, and even more prominent at night, when it was just him in the dark with his thoughts. When he was lying in bed, staring at the dark ceiling, it was only one face that joined him, swimming before his blurred vision. An angelically pale face, framed by jet-dark hair, blue eyes lasering into him, sharp cheekbones, plump lips smiling teasingly, yet affectionately. His dreams recently had been scaringly filthy. He had woken feeling things he never thought he could really feel.

Even thinking about his dreams now, sitting on his sofa at twenty past four in the afternoon, he felt himself twitching. This was not good. Vince had made his feeling perfectly clear. He knew that Vince cared for him, but he wasn't sure if Vince's feelings matched his own. He loved Vince with every breath he breathed. He would never forgive himself for letting love run away from him that day at the University.

He gazed at the television blankly, trying to calm himself down.

The sharp shrill of the phone broke into his mindless thoughts.

Automatically he reached for it and pressed answer.

"Hello, Howard Moon."

"Hey, Howard, it's me."

An unreasonable surge of excitement passed through his whole body. "Hey, Vince, how are you?"

"Yeah, not bad, not bad."

Was it him, or did Vince sound nervous? There was a pause.

"How are you doing Howard?"

"Yeah, good, good."

Another silence.

It seemed Vince had decided to bite the bullet because his next words were all a bit of a blur.

"Erm, so I was wondering, Tanya's having this party tonight, pretty low-key, and I kinda need a date, and I know it's really short notice, but I was wondering if maybe you wanted to go with me? I mean, I know it's not really your thing, but I'd really appreciate you being there, and..."

"Vince, Vince, slow down. Start from the beginning."

He heard Vince take a deep shaky breath on the other end of the line. "Yeah, basically, Tanya's having this party and I want you to be there. I know it's not your thing, but... but there's no-one else I want to go with."

Howard's mind was racing. Unless he was reading this situation seriously wrong, Vince wanted to go on a date with him. A date. With him. With _him_. This called for a Man of Action. And Howard rose to the occasion.

"Vince. Are you asking me on a date?"

He heard the sharp intake of breath on the line. There was a _long_ pause. Then the answer. Very shaky, but firm at the same time.

"Yeah. I guess I am."

"What about you saying this could never work?"

"Howard. I can't get you out of my mind. It might not work, we might break each other's hearts, but I figure we'll never know unless we try, right?"

"Right." Howard realised he was grinning all over his face and must look like a total idiot.

"Only thing is, Howard, is that the paparazzi are gonna be there. Are you sure you can handle it? Cos if it's too soon then we can skip tonight. They can be very... pushy."

"Hey, don't worry about it sir, I'm a Man of Action, remember?"

"Yeah, right, Howard. You're about as active as a bag of Twiglets."

Howard smiled. "So what time is this party?"

"Eight, don't worry, Tanya's car'll pick you up."

"What, from Kent?" Howard was doubtful.

"Hey, she said anywhere. Apparently her driver's very flexible."

"Well, okay. I've got to have a shower. What's the dress code? Will my quizzical fawn trousers do?"

Howard heard a suppressed giggle on the other end of the line.

"Howard, I'm bringing an outfit with me. Don't get offended, but it'll look _way_ better on you than any weird woodland animals coloured trousers."

**Vince's POV**

The car pulled up to Howard's house at exactly seven o clock. It was a sleek black limo that Vince constantly teased Tanya about, although now he'd taken a ride in it, he had to admit it was comfortable. As he got out, he could see lights clicking on in windows as Howard's neighbours tried to take a sneaky peek at who had turned up in their quiet village in a limo. Tanya got out the other side, her party outfit covered by a long black trenchcoat.

"God, Vince, it's freezing! I hope your mate's got the heating on!" Vince smiled affectionately at her.

"Come on, Tan. We'll ring the doorbell. Have you got the outfit?"

She lifted a designer bag as proof. Vince nodded, satisfied.

He rang the bell.

A few seconds later and Howard opened the door. He was in his dressing gown, clearly not having bothered getting dressed if he was just going to get changed. Nevertheless, Tanya could see the attraction. His dark brown hair was curly and messy, falling over his deep brown eyes. Yes, his eyes were small, but they were full of emotion, full of meaning. He also had a deeply kind appearance.

His eyes automatically widened as he took in Tanya standing there.

"I... I... I mean, you're... you're Tanya Edwards..."

Vince grinned. "Yeah. Tan, this is Howard Moon. Howard, this is Tanya."

Tanya extended a hand. "Charmed, darling. Come on, Vince, it's freezing out here." Howard stood to one side and Tanya and Vince walked in.

"C'mon, Howard! I know you're gonna look gorgeous!"

"I'm... I'm just not sure, Vince. It looks... weird."

"Well, judging by your fashion sense, weird should be good. Come on, come out. It's just me."

"Well, alright, but don't laugh!"

The bathroom door lock clicked, and the door swung open. Vince stood, tapping one heeled foot against the floor. Then his mouth dropped open, most unattractively, probably.

Howard stood against the harsh bathroom light. His hair was teased into what might be called, attractively tousled. He had a deep blue shirt on that caught the light and somehow turned silvery. It was teamed with a loose black and silver tie which had a glossy sheen. His jeans were the height of fashion, dark denim, and made his legs appear longer and sleeker.

"Wow, Howard, you're, well, you're gorgeous. You always were." He couldn't help himself. Vince moved forwards, threw his arms around Howard's neck, and brought his lips to meet Howard's.

Howard moaned slightly, and wrapped his arms around Vince's slim waist. They stumbled back into the bathroom, and automatically Vince kicked the door shut behind them. Howard sat down abruptly on the loo seat, and Vince sat on his lap, legs either side of his thighs. His hands were roaming through Howard's silky hair, down his chest, under his shirt. Howard groaned again, and pulled Vince closer towards him, one hand at the nape of his neck, fondling the dark strands of hair. He ran his hand up and down Vince's back. They kissed messily and passionately. They literally couldn't get enough of each other. Howard could hardly believe he was with Vince, and what was more, Vince _wanted_ him. He knew Vince wanted him. If not by his kisses, then by his definite arousal that was pressing against his hip bone. Taken by a sudden surge of confidence, he moved his hand from Vince's back and slipped to the front of Vince's tight skinny jeans. The kiss broke, and Vince drew back, gasping slightly, huge blue eyes dilated even more, lips flushed deep red from Howard's kisses. Keeping his eyes on Vince, Howard deliberately slipped a hand under the waistband of Vince's jeans and fished under the tight boxers. Vince moaned loudly and tipped his head back, hair flying.

"Shit, Howard."

Their breathing quickened. Vince was panting harshly as Howard stroked and groped him. Suddenly, there was a sharp knock at the door.

"Hey, guys, are you ready? Only we should be going." Tanya.

Howard took his hand slowly out of Vince's boxers. They gazed each other, frozen in time, both flushed.

Then Vince leaned forward, and whispered in Howard's ear.

"I love you."

**So, that's it for the moment. Hope you like. I actually wrote this when I was kinda tipsy, so I hope it's okay! Reviews would be very, very much appreciated. The button's right there! xxxxxx**


	14. Chapter 14

**Author's Note: Hey all, thanks so much for your reviews, they were all very helpful! A quick warning, after this chapter the rating will probably go up to an M as there may or may not be fairly graphic slash later on. I haven't decided yet, it depends if I can do it justice! So this story won't appear on the main screen, you'll have to search for it specially! This chapter is really just a lovely little bit of fluff for you to enjoy – seeing as it's Christmas!**

**Disclaimer: They do not belong to me, they will never belong to me... but all the random celebrities and journalists I made up do belong to me. **

**Howard's POV**

Howard clutched Vince's hand tightly, staring out the limo's tinted windows as the dark streets of London went by. He was feeling anxious, very anxious indeed. It had been bad enough, years before, when Vince managed to drag him to a party with him and his friends, and that was only in Dalston. This was a celebrity party in Tanya Edwards' private club and Howard was starting to wish he'd been a bit more cautious and a bit less gung-ho when he said to Vince he'd come with him. He felt a little stupid in these new clothes, the jeans didn't have the reassuring deep grooves of his cordoroy trousers, and the shirt was made of material that was far too thin. You knew where you were with a solid, reliable nutmeg sweater.

But all this obsessing about his clothes was really just a way for him to block out what Vince had said to him in the bathroom before they left. He couldn't let himself hope, couldn't let himself _believe_ that Vince actually wanted to be with him, for real. It seemed like he was in some kind of delicious dream, he'd been having so many of them lately, and he really didn't want to wake up. And yet he'd seen with his own eyes how aroused Vince had been. He didn't deserve Vince, he knew that he wasn't good enough for him, but he was too selfish to let Vince go.

Howard glanced to his right, and looked at Vince, who was chatting with Tanya and sipping chilled champagne from a flute. He looked as gorgeous as ever. For reasons best known to himself, he'd decided to go slightly medieval (he'd changed his outfit at Howard's) and was consequently dressed in a silky deep blue tunic, silver leggings and knee high blue leather boots. He had what could only be described as an embroidered silver girdle around his waist and a delicate silver circlet nestled in his hair. Howard would have said that such an outfit would have looked ridiculous, but as usual Vince pulled it off. Suddenly Vince glanced at him and gave him a warm, reassuring smile, and squeezed his hand.

"You alright, Howard?"

Howard who had a slight feeling of bile rising at the back of his throat, thought it best if he didn't open his mouth, and so settled for a curt nod.

Vince slowly edged closer to him on the leather seat, nestling into his side.

"You don't have to worry, Howard. Everything's gonna be fine. Yeah, there are gonna be a few photographers outside the club but just smile and stand up straight and you'll be fine. I'll do the talking if necessary, awright?"

Howard gave him a slightly wobbly smile in return, but then sat up a bit straighter.

"I shall be fine, sir! I'm Howard Moon, man of action, remember?" Vince grinned.

"Whatever you say, Howard," and he turned and rolled his eyes at Tanya.

Just then the radio station that was playing quietly in the background started playing a song. A song that all of them in the car knew very well indeed. Howard gulped, guilt bubbling up through his chest.

_I thought I knew you_

_Thought I'd figured you out_

_Then your rejection..._

Vince glanced at Howard, and then leaned forward.

"Mate, can we have the music off please?" The driver obediently leaned forward and turned it off. Vince sat back, rubbing Howard's thigh with one slim hand. Tanya tactfully shifted away slightly and busied herself with touching up her make-up.

"What are you thinking, Howard?" Vince asked gently. Howard shook his head violently, brown curls flying, eyes screwed shut. Vince shook him slightly. "Howard? Talk to me."

"I just don't know why, Vince."

"Why what?"

Howard turned around to him fully, his voice cracked and angry. "Why you're even with me! What have I ever done to deserve you? I broke your heart! Millions of people out there know it! You deserve far better than me."

Vince blinked. "Howard, that was years ago. Years and years. Yes, you hurt me, but I've hurt you plenty of times in the past. What about the time I ate your Howling Jimmy vinyl, eh? Or the time when Naboo fired you for my mistake while I was too busy with a sparkly cape? Hmmm?"

Howard shook his head again. "It's not the same, it's not the same at _all._ _You_ never broke my heart."

Vince took Howard's head in both hands, forcing him to look him in the eyes.

"Howard, my heart was never broken. I thought it was, but it turns out it was just a little... damaged for a while. And annoyingly enough I've found out that the one who damaged it is the only one who can fix it. Who already _has_ fixed it. I thought it would be better for us to be apart, but I was wrong. We'll take it slow, but I need to be with you. I just don't work without you."

Tears were sliding down Howard's cheeks, and Vince's thumbs rubbed them gently away. "I love you, Howard Moon, you great Northern freak, and you love me. That's all we need."

Tanya sniffled and subtly reached for her tissues. Vince hugged Howard, feeling his harsh breathing become steadier and calmer. Howard nestled his chin into Vince's shoulder, rubbing his hands over Vince's back. He had to be the luckiest man on earth. Vince had given him a second chance, a second chance at living. And he wasn't going to blow it this time. Or his name wasn't Howard TJ Moon.

They pulled up outside the club about fifteen minutes later. As they'd approached, Vince had reached into another designer carrier bag and presented a soft, wrapped object to Howard.

"A present," he explained.

Howard reached for it, intrigued. "What for?"

Vince shrugged. "Just thought you might find it useful."

Howard opened it, and a sleek, black leather jacket fell out onto his lap. It was clearly very well made, and very expensive. Howard revelled at the feel of it under his hands. Vince lifted it up, and helped him put it on. It fit perfectly.

"Definitely goes with the outfit. I'm a genius, if I say so myself," Vince preened, smoothing out the material. "Look, I even got it customised specially for you." He showed Howard the left hand side lapel, where a small outline of a trumpet had been stitched into the leather with silver thread.

Howard, who'd already been on a bit of an emotional rollercoaster, had to struggle to keep the tears at bay.

"Thank you, Vince. It's amazing."

Vince beamed, happily. He'd always thought that Howard would look good in a leather jacket, and he wasn't wrong. In fact, he was having to restrain himself from straddling him and making out in the limo like a hormone-crazed teenager.

Lights flashed outside as they purred to a halt. A uniformed valet sprang to attention and opened the door for Howard, as another did the same for Tanya.

Howard ignored the hand that was extended towards him and got out. Flashes dazzled him, almost making him throw up his arm to cover his eyes. Instead he stood to the side. The photographers leaned forward as a slim hand delicately laid itself in the valet's and Vince Noir issued from the limo. Howard was convinced that he'd be blinded and then deafened in quick succession as there was an explosion of light from the waiting cameras and the paparazzi all started calling Vince's name. The man in question gave a grin and slipped his hand into Howard's, a move that the hacks leapt upon eagerly.

"Vince! Vince! Who's your date?"

"Vince, what's happening with Zach Cordo?"

"Vince, who are you wearing?" This from a pretty red-headed journalist from a leading fashion magazine. Vince leaned over to answer her, and Howard looked around, still in complete shock, at all the madness surrounding them.

Tanya had also now got out of the limo, and had joined them at the entrance to the club, striking poses for the press. Howard watched her carefully. It was all a performance, that's what it was. You just had to give them a bit of a show. With a new-found confidence he moved forward slightly and wrapped his arms around Vince's waist. Vince looked up in surprise, and then grinned. The fashion journalist eagerly leaned forward, thrusting her microphone under Howard's nose.

"And you are?"

Howard opened his mouth, and then realized that he didn't really know what to say. He had absolutely no experience with these things.

Luckily Vince answered for him.

"This is Howard Moon, he's my date for tonight and my boyfriend."

Howard gulped, and tightened his grip. The journalist's eyes widened. "How long has this been going on? Does Zach know?" It would always surprise Howard how the journalists acted like they personally knew all the people they interviewed. At the mention of Zach's name, Vince's blue eyes narrowed slightly and his lips thinned.

"It's a fairly new thing," he said at last, "and I personally don't give a shit about Zach Cordo one way or the other." He grinned abruptly, and the happy go-lucky Vince was suddenly back. "Have a nice night." He turned away from the barrage of flashes and pulled slightly at Howard to make him move.

More cars were starting to pull up, and most of the photographers started focussing on the sudden influx of famous faces that were spilling out onto the pavement.

Tanya, Vince and Howard posed a few more times for the cameras and then made their way into the club.

They found themselves in a large foyer, with a counter on one side and a cloakroom behind it. The walls were painted a deep navy with silver stars dotted around them, and lining the walls were a few plush sofas with cushions. Vince took Howard's jacket and slung it onto the counter, Tanya did the same with her wrap. The man behind the counter smiled respectfully at them and took the coats into the cloakroom.

They made their way down a flight of stairs and they were suddenly in the main room of the club.

"All drinks are free tonight, guys," Tanya shouted expansively, lighting a cigarette.

Vince moved closer in to Howard's side. "I've gotta mingle for a bit, you don't mind do you?" Howard shook his head and followed as Vince made his way over to a group of people who were standing by the bar. As they drew closer, Howard's jaw almost dropped in amazement.

Nicola James, the famous actress had spotted Vince and was waving him over. Her most famous film, _The Shadow of the Night_ was one of Howard's favourites. And she was standing right there, in the flesh, looking gorgeous in a tight black dress and skyscraper heels. Howard's stomach churned as they joined her. Also in the group were several singers, a few models and some other celebrities who Howard didn't know quite as well, but he'd seen years earlier in Vince's celebrity magazines which he'd bought religiously. And now Vince was kissing Nicola on the cheek, and turning round to introduce Howard.

"Nic, this is Howard Moon. He's my date." Nicola smiled warmly at him, leant over and kissed him on the cheek.

"Lovely to meet you, Howard Moon," she purred in her lilting Irish accent. "I hope you're taking good care of Vince. He needs someone decent in his life."

"Eergh," Howard managed to say, his vocal chords having almost completely shut down. Vince shot him an amused glance.

"Howard's been a fan of yours ever since I've known him," he said. "He works as a jazz journalist and all this..." he waved an arm at the various glittering personalities, "... is kinda new for him."

Nicola's face softened in understanding. She moved closer to Howard, whispering confidentially to him. "I know just how you feel," she assured him. "When I went to my first film premiere I felt like a total intruder. I barely said a word the whole night!"

Howard struggled to make his voice work. "Yes," he eventually said, "I'm new to the whole party thing as well. It's always been more Vince's scene."

Nicola looked a little puzzled. "It sounds like you guys have known each other quite a while," she said, looking from one to the other.

Howard and Vince glanced at each other. "We've been friends for quite a long time, Nic," Vince said eventually, an arm slinking around Howard's waist, "but we only really got together tonight."

"Aww, that's lovely," Nicola said, her deep brown eyes sparkling. "I wish you both the best."

Vince found them both drinks, two flutes of champagne, and they moved from one group to the next, Howard feeling fairly surreal and sure that if he slapped himself now he'd wake up in his flat, alone in his bed.

Eventually they'd said hello to virtually everyone, and Vince led them over to a quiet booth in the corner. Howard slid in and sat down and Vince swiftly plopped himself onto his lap. Howard's heart jumped and he wrapped an arm around Vince's back, the other hand set to playing with the soft strands of hair at the back of Vince's neck. Vince sighed softly and leant into Howard's chest.

"Cheers for coming tonight, Howard. Means a lot," he mumbled against the fabric of Howard's shirt.

"I'm honoured you asked me, little man," Howard whispered, his heart feeling so full he thought he might explode. Vince smiled as he recognized Howard's old pet name for him. Howard's brow creased with a sudden thought.

"Nicola doesn't think I'm mental, does she?" he worried. Vince grinned.

"Nah, she thinks you're lovely. She actually said to me if I mess it up with you, she's jumping straight in there." Howard blushed deep red. "Howard?"

"Mmm?"

"Can I come back to yours for the night? Only I left my clothes there and stuff..." he trailed off. Howard smiled.

"You don't need an excuse to stay over at mine, Vince. Of course you can." Vince nestled in closer. "Cheers, Howard."

Soon they were joined by Nicola, Tanya, Richard (an aspiring designer) and Joseph (an actor). Howard was soon put at his ease, and opened up, talking and laughing with all of them. Vince shifted slightly, but stayed on Howard's lap, enjoying the feeling of Howard's fingers idly stroking the nape of his neck.

Both of them felt whole again, now they were together.

**Well, that's it for now. Remember, I'll be putting the rating up soon so be warned! Reviews would be much appreciated, I know nothing much happened in this chapter but don't worry, it will soon! Toodle pip xxxx**


	15. Chapter 15

**Author's Note: Well, well – another chapter so soon? Am I dreaming, you say? No, it's just I feel like I'm on a roll! As I've said at the bottom, this chapter kind of wrote itself – including the new twist in the plot. I'm not at all sure if it's any good, but read anyway? Thank you all for your reviews, they keep me going!**

**Warnings: Fairly graphic homosexual action in this chapter, but I don't think it's too bad! Also adult themes. You have been warned.**

**Disclaimer: Noel and Julian are not mine... yet, mwahahaha.**

**Vince's POV**

He'd had a little too much to drink. He knew that, in the sense that a little voice right at the back of his admittedly mostly empty brain, was insisting that he stop drinking. But who listens to the little voices? He obeyed the much louder voice, and reached out his hand to grab a refill from a passing waiter.

He was having a really good time. It had been too long since he'd done this, gone out for a night with good friends and had a laugh. Vince knew this was where he was supposed to be, sat on Howard's lap and soaking up attention like it was rays from the sun. The months spent with Zach had been dull, colourless and frightening, always watching what he said and how he behaved. One incident floated unbidden into his mind.

He'd gone out to the pub for a quiet drink with Zach, a couple of weeks after the abuse had started. They'd gone to the bar to get their drinks, a vodka and coke for Vince and a pint for Zach. All he'd done was smile at the barman to say thank you. That wasn't so bad, was it? But Zach had dragged Vince to a corner, his lips tight and a frown creasing his forehead. Vince had watched nervously as Zach's deep brown eyes flashed with rage.

"_What do you think you're doing, you little flirt?"_

"_W-what? I don't know what you mean!"_

Zach had scoffed angrily. _"You know full well what I mean! Making eyes at the barman like that. What, I'm not good enough for you now?"_

"_I just smiled at him, for God's sake, what's wrong with you?"_ Vince had been aware his voice had taken on that high-pitched note that he hated but seemed powerless to stop. At the same time he felt reckless, safe in the knowledge that they were in a public space, that he was famous, and that Zach would never do anything when other people were around.

"_Listen, Vince. You're _my_ boyfriend. _Mine._ Why can't you understand how upset it makes me when you flirt with other guys?"_

"_For the last time, Zach, I _wasn't_ flirting. I was just being friendly."_ All of a sudden, Zach had sagged, his shoulders slumped.

"_Okay, I'm sorry. I overreacted. Let's just enjoy our drinks, shall we?"_ Vince had sipped his vodka and coke in relief, glad that Zach had seen reason. That happy feeling lasted until they got home and Zach had given him a black eye.

Vince shook his head abruptly, his hair flying into Howard's face. Howard spat out a strand of Vince's hair, laughing.

"What on earth, Vince?" he joked, but stopped when he caught the look on his boyfriend's face. Howard glanced around the table. Richard had gone to the loos, Joseph and Nicola were mingling and Tanya had gone to fine-tune the DJ's set list. "What's wrong?"

Vince shrugged, trying to put a smile back on his face.

"Nothing, don't worry 'bout it Howard." He thought he'd been convincing, but this was Howard he was talking to. Howard, who had known him since he was sixteen years old. He watched the brown eyes narrow in concern.

"Vince? Come on. This is me you're talking to. Spit it out, sir."

"Nah, it's really nothing. Just thinking 'bout Zach... can't seem to help it." Howard drew him closer and tightened his arms around Vince's waist.

"It's alright, Vince. You're with me now, with your friends. It's only natural to get anxious every now and again. Just try and focus on us, okay?"

Vince nodded. "'Kay, Howard."

Howard rubbed his back reassuringly. "You sure you're alright? You don't want to go home?"

Vince shook his head adamantly. "Nah, I'm 'aving fun." Suddenly, over the speakers, one of Vince's ballad-style songs rang out. Vince rolled his eyes. "Tanya. She says she loves this one."

"What's wrong with that, it's one of your best. I love it."

Vince turned his head to look at Howard properly. "You mean you've heard it?"

Howard snorted. "_Heard _it? _Own_ it more like. I have both your albums." For some reason this made Vince tear up slightly, and his chest tightened. It was the way Howard had said it, so genuine and so proud of him. For too long, Vince realized, he'd been used to Howard thinking he was a bit of a waster. Howard's simple admittance of the fact that he owned both of Vince's albums was incredibly touching. Swiftly Vince slid off his lap, scooted out of the booth and held out his hand.

"Dance with me?"

Howard's small eyes widened fractionally and he glanced around nervously.

"Um, Vince, I'm not sure, I mean... well..." he gazed down at his feet, "... I can't dance. I don't want to embarrass you."

Vince grinned. "C'mon, Howard. It's a slow dance. All you have to do is sway, and even you can do that. Come on!"

Vince could see from Howard's expression that he was wrestling with himself, and then one large hand was laid in his slender one. Beaming Vince towed the bigger man onto the dance floor.

He guided Howard's arms to his waist, and threw his own around Howard's neck. Carefully Howard started to rotate slowly on the spot. Vince sighed happily and leant his head against Howard's broad shoulder. Howard gazed down at the dark head settled against the blue of his shirt and smiled. Vince's mournful lyrics and the soaring piano and violin instrumentals filled the whole club. All around them people were following their example and finding partners to dance with. Tanya was with a good-looking male model, the ever-present cigarette glowing in her left hand. Nicola was smooching with a rather shocked young actor who had just made his debut film and appeared surprised to even be here.

At this moment Vince felt incredibly peaceful and happy. He could feel Howard's thumb rubbing small concentric circles on his hipbone, while the other hand slipped around to the small of his back to draw him closer.

**Howard's POV**

By the time they left the club, Vince was very tipsy and on his way to being drunk. Howard had a protective arm around him, and half carried him out of the building. The paparazzi were still loitering outside, looking rather bored and miserable in the drizzling rain. As soon as Howard and Vince exited, they perked up, and the increasingly annoying flashes started. Howard ignored their questions and concentrated on getting Vince into his limo. Feeling that it would be rather cheeky to ask Tanya's driver to go all the way to Kent, Howard had located Vince's driver's number on his mobile and asked him to pick them up. They hovered at the door to the car while they said goodbye to Tanya.

As Vince clambered in, Tanya drew Howard aside.

"Howard, I want to say something to you." Howard was still a little starstruck in her presence, but he felt a lot more comfortable with her now, mainly because she was so down to earth and friendly.

"Go ahead."

"It's about Vince. You know he's been staying at my place since the whole thing with Zach, right?" She spit the name out, as if it was contaminating her very thoughts. Howard knew exactly how she felt.

"Yes."

"Well, I get the feeling that there's something he's not telling you or me. Something that happened with Zach. Just..." she paused, searching for the right words, and Howard could see how much she cared for Vince, "... just watch out for him, yeah? Take care of him."

Howard nodded. "Of course I will. I love Vince more than life itself."

"I can see you do. Take care of yourself Howard. See you soon, hopefully."

Howard agreed, and gave her a quick hug, careful not to stub himself on her cigarette. He slid in after Vince and they were away.

The limo purred into Howard's road in the very early hours of the morning. Vince had sobered up slightly during the drive, but not by very much.

Howard helped him out of the car, said thanks to the driver, unlocked his door and led Vince into the house.

Vince swayed slightly as he stood in the hallway, uncertain of what to do. Howard hung his new jacket on the peg and showed Vince upstairs.

"D'you want to brush your teeth? I've got a spare toothbrush."

"Thanks, Howard." He went into the bathroom and shut the door. Howard went into his bedroom and automatically started plumping up the pillows. He presumed that he and Vince were going to sleep in the same bed, but he didn't want to appear too forward. He didn't know yet what Vince meant by 'taking things slow'.

About fifteen minutes later Vince wandered out of the bathroom, carrying his clothes over his arm and dressed only in his boxers. Howard swallowed, noisily. He had just put on his usual sensible cotton pyjamas, and was consequently feeling very overdressed. As Vince walked into the room, or maybe sashayed might be a better word, Howard couldn't stop himself drinking in every inch of him. His shoulders, his slim torso with the famous scar on his stomach, his hipbones sticking out fairly alarmingly, the dark blue boxers with gold stars, his pale thighs and calves.

Vince cocked his head at Howard, a little smirk on his face.

"C'mon, Howard. It's not _that_ cold, is it?" He gestured to Howard's pyjamas. Gulping, Howard took off his top and folded it neatly on the chair. Vince chucked his clothes randomly towards Howard's top, some of them landed on the chair, but most ended up on the floor.

Vince sidled around the side of the bed, and slid into it, nestling into the pillows. Howard followed him in, reaching for Vince to give him a cuddle and a kiss goodnight.

What started out as a gentle kiss soon became a lazy making out session. Howard's hands roamed over Vince's body, enjoying the feeling of the muscles spasming beneath his touch. Vince groaned as Howard's finger lightly traced his nipple, and he deepened the kiss, clawing at Howard's back to bring them closer. They continued like this for a while, until Howard, emboldened, started slipping his fingers under Vince's boxers. His hand travelled around until one finger had located Vince's entrance. Suddenly he felt Vince tense underneath his touch. Quickly he withdrew his hand and looked at his boyfriend. Vince's eyes were closed, and a frown had creased his forehead.

"Vince? I'm sorry, I didn't mean to go so far..."

"It's not you, Howard." The reply was sharp and very unlike Vince's usual tone of voice. Howard gazed at him.

"Vince, what's wrong?"

"Don't worry about it," Vince snapped, in a voice that was only slightly slurred. Abruptly he turned over, away from Howard. "Night."

There was no way Howard was leaving it like that.

"Vince! Come on, look at me." There was no reply, so Howard reached out and took hold of Vince's shoulder, turning him around in the bed. To his surprise and dismay there were tears filling in Vince's eyes.

"I'm sorry, H'ward," he mumbled into the pillows, tears soaking the material. Howard brushed dark hair away from Vince's face.

"What are you sorry about? I should be sorry. I'm just not sure what's going on. I mean, you seemed fine messing around earlier in the bathroom... has something changed? Did I do something...?"

"I thought I could do it, H'ward... but I can't. I'm sorry." At this point Vince seemed to be talking more to himself than to his boyfriend.

"Do it? Vince, we don't have to _do_ anything you don't want to." But Howard could see that Vince was too drunk and too emotional to think or speak clearly. He settled for gently turning Vince around and then pulling him close to his chest, so that they were lying in the spooning position. He heard Vince snuffling and sniffing for about ten minutes, and then his breathing evened out as he eventually fell asleep. Howard lay in the dark, cradling the most important person in his life, and thought.

When Howard woke in the morning there was a blissful second of peace before the events of the previous night caught up with him. Sighing he rubbed the sleep from his eyes and turned over. Vince wasn't there. Howard was about to panic and leap out bed, when he heard footsteps on the stairs, and then Vince was standing in the bedroom doorway, holding two cups of tea, dressed in new boxers and one of Howard's t-shirts. He smiled nervously.

"Hey, Howard, I... um, I made you some tea." Howard cautiously pulled himself up to a sitting position and took the hot mug that Vince held out to him. Carefully Vince slid into the bed next to him and started blowing on the liquid in the mug to cool it down.

"Howard, I'm sorry 'bout last night. For freaking out on you and stuff."

"Nothing to apologise for, sir. But we do have a problem."

Vince looked worried. "What d'you mean?"

"I mean, how can we be together if you don't trust me? Why can't you tell me what's bothering you? And don't say there isn't anything to talk about. I'm not an idiot, sir."

Vince bit his lip. Emotions flitted across his face as he struggled to find words.

"It's not a big deal, Howard," he muttered eventually. In the past, this tone of voice would have warned Howard to let well enough alone. But not this time.

"Don't fob me off, Vince. I know I've hurt you in the past, but I'm here for you now, one hundred percent. Please, just tell me."

Vince shook his head, a tear sliding down his cheek. "Please, Howard. Just let it alone. _Please_."

"No!" Howard slammed his mug down on the bedside table, not caring about the dark brown liquid that splashed onto his pale carpet. Vince's eyes widened. "No, I will not leave it alone! I can see that there's something wrong, Vince. Something you're not telling me. This isn't like you, and I want to know what happened. Now please, just... just tell me!"

Vince threw back the covers, putting his mug down hard on his bedside table. His eyes flashed, and he ran both hands through his beloved mane of hair frenziedly.

"Just leave it alone Howard! God, why can't you just... _leave me alone!_ I don't need your help! I don't need anything from you!" He started pacing beside the bed, backwards and forwards like a caged animal. "I'm not weak! I can handle this by myself, I don't need some jazzy idiot freak to tell me what to do!"

Howard flinched, but knew that Vince was just lashing out at the nearest person to him. It was one of his defense mechanisms.

"I know you're not weak, Vince," he said gently, soothingly. "You've proved that to me a dozen times over."

"So why are you pushing this? I don't_ need_ you Howard."

"Just tell me!"

All of a sudden, Vince deflated, sinking down onto the mattress, head in his hands. Howard took a moment to calm his breathing down, and then realized that Vince was muttering something to himself. Listening carefully he realized what it was.

"You won't love me. You won't. You won't."

Knowing that he should keep his distance, Howard carefully sat down on the other side of the bed. Vince was close to breaking point. There was silence for a couple of seconds, a silence fraught with tension.

"Was it Zach?" Howard's voice was low and surprisingly calm. Vince didn't say anything, but Howard saw him nod his head.

"What did he do, Vince?"

Vince's head sunk even lower. "It's not a big deal. It's just... it's just that he sometimes, well, he was a bit... insensitive."

"Insensitive?"

Vince's voice was little more than a cracked whisper. "Yeah. I mean, like, I'd be tired and he'd still want to... well, he'd..."

Howard had a horrible feeling he knew where this was going. A sensation like burning ice started travelling through his veins, fogging his senses.

"He... what? Vince?"

"I think... I think..." Vince's whispering turned indecipherable. Howard leaned closer.

"What, Vince? What is it?"

Vince sat up straight and twisted round to face Howard, his eyes misted with tears, but radiating a blankness which Howard detested.

"The official term, I think, is domestic rape, Howard."

**Ohhh dear. I'm really sorry, this story's kinda got away from me a bit, I think. I am trying to rein it back in, seriously! Wasn't even sure whether I should post this or not, but it's rated M now. But don't worry, the fluffy slashy goodness isn't that far away, I just couldn't resist some angst in between. Reviews, please?**


	16. Chapter 16

**Author's Note: Hey everyone, I'm back! Sorry for lateness of update, my fiance came to stay over New Year – also I had tremendous difficulty in trying to write this chapter sensitively and keep the characters true to themselves. I had to watch quite a few episodes to get their characters back in my mind (such a chore, I know!) Anyhoo, here it is. I have changed the format slightly in that it is now a first-person viewpoint instead of third. I have tried to get this fic back under my control... I don't know how successful it's been! Thanks for all your reviews though!**

**Brokenmoonlight, there will be slash coming up, that's what I rated it for but guess I should have made it clear, lol! Also was recommended to put rating up, and thanks for your review.**

**Warnings: You guessed it. Angst, angst and angst but I'm hoping to put a bit of fluff in as well. Also strong language.**

**Disclaimer: They're not mine, they never will be mine!**

**Howard's POV**

I think my jaw might have literally hit the floor. In a way I guess I was prepared for this, but in another way I wasn't. I really wasn't. It was one of those moments where your mind literally goes blank. Now, this is a first for me. My mind, as I'm sure you know, is full of first-class information, but now it was just a... just a blank. I'm not sure how long I stood there in my bedroom. Vince was sitting on the end of the bed, staring at the carpet. My voice wouldn't work. It was like meeting Nichola James all over again except worse. Much worse. I had heard of these things happening, but I never thought that they'd happen to anyone I knew. Especially not Vince.

Gradually feeling started to come back. Sorrow, just total anguish on Vince's behalf. I could feel the anger simmering below the surface, but I didn't have the strength for anger now. I didn't have the strength to do anything apart from sit on the end of the bed next to him. He didn't look at me, just continued staring at the carpet.

"Vince, I..."

**Vince's POV**

"Don't say it Howard. Just don't, alright?" I was fully aware that I was snapping at him, but I couldn't do anything else. I didn't want to hear him speak, didn't want to hear what he had to say. I almost hated him for pushing me to say it, but in a way I was grateful. It was like poison being sucked out of my body. Already my mind started to feel just a little lighter. I hadn't wanted to spend much time in there recently. It was easier to just pretend, easier to smile and laugh and joke and be the person I used to be. Everyone seemed fooled except Howard. I should have known I couldn't have kept something like this from him. He was bound to work it out eventually.

Now he knew everything. Although I knew it was stupid, I couldn't help feeling that he might... look at me differently now. I didn't feel tainted, exactly. I just felt... dirty. And uncomfortable in certain situations. And angry. The shock and sadness had dissipated over the last few weeks, and now all that was left was a boiling anger. It was a similar feeling to when Howard had supported me when I left Zach.

For fuck's sake, I'm Vince Noir. _Nobody_ pushes me around. But they have. And I don't know how to deal with it. I _am_ a strong person. I might not be the most clever, or the kindest, or the most tactful. But I'm strong – I've had to be.

It's just the thing is, I've always been stronger when Howard's been around. I hadn't realised it before. He's like my wingman, always backing me up, supporting me when I need it most.

So when he started talking, I didn't want to hear what he had to say. All I felt was this incredible anger surging through me. Anger at Zach and anger at the world for making me so screwed up.

**Howard's POV**

So he didn't want to talk. I sat on the bed and just looked at him. At his hair falling down over his face, at his hunched shoulders. We sat in silence for another few minutes. He wasn't crying anymore. The tears seemed to have dried up, though I felt like I could easily cry enough for both of us.

"Look, Vince, I know you're really upset but we need to talk about..."

"Upset?"

At last he looked up and glanced at me. His face was pale and there were frown lines on his forehead. But his eyes were steadfast.

"Upset? I'm not upset, Howard. Not now, anyway."

I'm confused. Not upset? When he'd just admitted that Zach had raped him? How could that be possible? Questions raced through my mind, but all I could come out with was:

"Not upset?"

"No, Howard. I'm _angry_."

"Angry?"

"Yeah. At pretty much everything right now." His voice seemed fairly calm, but I could sense the hatred and fury dancing in his eyes. "_Why_ did you make me tell you?"

"B-because, I wanted to know what was hurting you. I knew something was bothering you..."

"Yeah? Well, now you've found out. Congratulations. Are you happy now?" Bitterness laced his voice and sparked out into the room. Agony clutched at my heart and squeezed it, hard.

"Am I happy? For God's sake Vince."

"Disgusted, maybe? Do I disgust you, Howard?" He tried to make his tone belligerent, but I could feel the shakiness underneath it, the need to be reassured and loved.

"Of course you don't disgust me, Vince! _Zach_ disgusts me. This whole situation disgusts me. But not you, never you. None of what happened was your fault, you know that."

Vince shrugged, and that simple gesture just tore at my heart.

"I should have fought harder... I should have been stronger."

"You are strong, Vince. I've told you that before. Think of all the fanmail you've got recently saying the exact same thing. Think about how many people you inspired by doing what you did on Jonathan Ross. Those aren't the actions of someone who's weak, are they sir?"

Vince shrugged again. But this time it seemed to me a little less defeated.

It's nine o'clock in the evening. I spent the day trying to find a happy medium between giving Vince space and the support that he needs. He spent most of the morning in bed, drinking endless cups of ridiculously sweet tea that I made. I think I'm almost out of sugar. In the afternoon I decided that I would try to get him out and around the house a bit, maybe even into our tiny patch of garden.

He eventually consented to sitting on the garden bench with me, and chain-smoked while wrapped in my tatty old dressing gown. Then it was back indoors to bed. He's barely spoken to me all day, and I don't want to push him anymore. Not now. I think, I hope, it's enough that he knows I'm around, that he's not alone. Vince could never handle being alone very well.

The door suddenly opens and Vince is standing in the entrance to the living room, his tea mug clutched in his hand.

"Hey Howard," he said in a virtual monotone. My heart clenched.

"Hey, Vince. How're you feeling?"

"Tired. Can I have another cuppa tea?"

"Of course. I'll just make you one." I took the mug from his unresisting hand and started off down the stairs to the kitchen. I was aware of him trailing behind me, but didn't look round. I made the tea, clattering around getting the sugar and teabags out. He was standing, unmoving by the stairs, near to the coat hangers. Suddenly, out of the corner of my eye, I saw him turn and finger a scarf hanging on a hook.

"Hey, Howard, who's is this?"

I peered at it. "It's mine, sir," I replied in what I hoped was a casual manner, while inside I was thrilled he'd finally spoken to me in a fairly normal tone.

He snickered. For a second, I thought I'd imagined it. But no. There was a slight smile on his face.

"No way is this yours Howard," he announced.

"Why not?"

He held it out for me to see clearer. It was a bright yellow scarf with sparkly silver musical notes stitched onto it, and long silver tassels.

"That's why. I thought this much colour and style usually gave you a heart attack."

I blushed slightly. "Well, it was a present. From Kerry. You know, the little girl at the Centre you met?"

His eyes lit up, for the first time today. "Oh yeah! I remember her, she's genius. Well, she's got good taste anyway."

"Yeah, she knows I like jazz so..." I trailed off, handing him his cup of tea. Silence fell again. We trudged back up to the sitting room, but instead of heading off towards the bedroom Vince followed me in and sat on the sofa. I was about to flick the television on when Vince spoke.

"It happened twice."

I almost dropped my tea. My head spun and I suddenly felt slightly nauseous. I looked sharply over at Vince, he glanced at me and then stared at the opposite wall, out of the window.

"The first time I was too tired to fight him. We'd been at a party, an all-nighter type thing. There was weed going round and..." He didn't have to continue. I knew what he meant. "So I was a bit of a mess by the time we got back." I knew all too well. How many times had Vince come back to the Nabootique in the early hours of the morning, stinking of God knows what? "So yeah, I was exhausted, I was still kind of high and... well..." He went red and looked at the floor. I was going to say something, but then he heaved in a huge breath and started speaking again. "The second time I fought him. I really did, Howard. I had thought the first time was a mistake, that he didn't realise how drunk and tired I was, that I hadn't made myself clear to him. But it was no mistake the second time. He was too strong for me, Howard." The simple way in which he said that was almost too much for me. I felt the tears start up in my eyes at the bleakness of his voice. "I should have walked out, right then. As it was I think I gave him a black eye thanks to a well-placed fist. But it wasn't enough. A couple of weeks later, that was when I came to you."

Silence again. I was really beginning to hate the silence. I longed for that old time when the flat would be full with the sounds of us bickering, laughing or even just sitting doing our own thing in a comfortable silence.

The trouble was that I really didn't know what to say. Everything I thought of seemed to be a cliché and I couldn't pretend to know what Vince was going through.

Although the silence was uncomfortable, somehow I thought Vince looked better for talking about his ordeal openly. His eyes seemed clearer.

**Vince's POV**

I had no idea what was going on in my head. I rarely did anyway, as a rule, but this time it was different. This time I wasn't being distracted by pretty clothing or a new design in Topshop. It's like I was on some kind of weird emotional see-saw, up one minute and down the next. This morning I hadn't really had any sort of thoughts at all. I had just laid in the bed full of rage at Zach, confusion at why on earth this had happened to me, a strange sense of happiness that I was with Howard properly again, more anger and then more confusion. I was vaguely aware of Howard coming in and out with cups of tea. I honestly think the sugar was the only thing keeping me going. I'm going to put on weight if I'm not careful, and then none of my clothes will fit me anymore.

The evening was different, somehow. I felt more... more like me. Especially seeing that scarf that Kerry had given Howard. It looked so alien just hanging there among all the dark brown coats and green hats. Something about it made me smile. Maybe it was the colour or the pretty pattern on it, but I don't think so. Once I found out that Kerry had given it to Howard, it reminded me of that day I spent with her. She was so lovely, so full of innocence and fun. Like me, when I was her age. At any age, in fact. It made me happy to know that I could make her happy. I think it was then that I started to see a hazy light through all the darkness that was clogging my mind.

It was then that I decided to tell Howard what had happened.

I felt better afterwards. More poison out, leaving me a little cleaner. I even caught myself looking at Howard's curtains and wondering whether the pattern could be a new trendsetter. Of course, the rage, anguish and confusion was all still there. But it seemed diminished.

Howard was looking at me, a little anxious and worried. He was tugging on the corner of his moustache, something that I've noticed he does when he doesn't know what to do or say. I could tell him that he doesn't need to worry so much, that I'll sort it out. But I think I need him to be with me, to say that he's a Man of Action, even if he doesn't do anything. It's the thought that counts.

Absent-mindedly I sink back into the sofa and put my hands into Howard's dressing-gown pocket. The fingers on my right hand touch something odd, something fairly hard but also kind of squishy. Puzzled I draw it out and look at it. It looks like... it looks like... _cheese_.

For a second I stared at it, and then lifted my eyes to Howard, who is looking embarrassed and blushing.

"What on earth is this, Howard?" It's the only question that comes to mind.

Howard tugs nervously. "Erm, it's, it's cheese. Gouda actually, very powerful."

"Why d'you have Gouda in your dressing gown pocket?"

He looks shamefaced. "Just in case I get hungry in the night, you know. Something to snack on, sir."

We look at each other... and laugh.

**Well. I have no idea whether or not that chapter was any good. I kind of enjoyed writing it, and trying out a different format. Please let me know what it was like. Reviews? xxx**


	17. Chapter 17

**Author's Note: Ahem. I'm not even sure I should be writing this in case people can somehow track me down and kill me for not updating in, like, months. I do apologise – I have no idea what happened. Well, actually I do, it was University getting in the way like always but anyhoo. So... it's Easter and I felt like I should start tying up ends and making this story the little cheerful fluff fest that it was originally intended to be! This is the penultimate chapter as I am keen to move onto more little Booshy and Glee fanfics. After this there will be an epilogue so look out for that! Also, there is some fairly hardcore slash in this installment. Enjoy!**

**Disclaimer: Not mine, otherwise there would be lots of Vince/Howard hanky-panky on a regular basis.**

**Warnings: Homosexual activity of a fairly graphic nature. If you don't like it, don't read it!**

**A couple of months later...**

**Howard's POV**

Howard scatted to himself absently as he strolled slowly down the busy London street in the late afternoon sunshine. Everything he looked better in the sun, he reflected, as he admired his newly bought Jazz CD in its shiny plastic bag. He'd had a wonderful afternoon, browsing his favourite Jazz and stationary stores. And now he was on his way back home, where dinner would be waiting for him...

Hmmm. A slight frown creased his forehead at that thought. As wonderful as Vince undoubtedly was, he had to admit he was slightly pensive about his boyfriend's cooking prowess. But Vince had wanted to make him dinner, so who was he to refuse?

As he slid his key into the lock and swung open the door a cacophany of noise greeted him. Wincing he dropped his shopping bag on the hall carpet and kicked off his shoes. The noise was emanating from the kitchen and as he paused, he could hear a rock CD blaring and Vince singing along at the top of his voice. Howard smiled fondly.

He wandered along the hallway and pushed open the kitchen door... and his eyes widened. Vince was dancing around wearing nothing but boxers and a silky black apron with 'HOT STUFF' emblazoned across the front in sparkly, silvery letters. His dark hair was flying around his face as he enthusiastically waved a ladle in one hand and ovengloves in the other. There was a smear of some sort of tomato sauce on his cheek, and someone had clearly gone a little trigger-happy in cutting and peeling vegetables as there were carrot-peelings and squidgy tomato seeds covering nearly all of their work surfaces.

Howard narrowed his eyes and tapped his foot patiently, waiting for Vince to notice him in the doorway.

Vince spun around once more, and his eyes locked on Howard's. Abruptly he came to a halt, put the ladle and ovengloves down on a counter, and grinned sheepishly. Howard turned down the volume on the CD player and sniffed.

"Mmm, smells good!"

Vince hit him playfully in the chest. "You don't need to sound so surprised. I'm actually pretty good at cooking, you know!"

"Was it really necessary to decorate the kitchen in vegetable peel though? Not that I don't appreciate your attempts at new decor but..."

"Ahh yes, well, you can't constrain creativity Howard, you should know that. I'm an _artist_ dahling!" He put one hand on his hip and struck a pose, ruining the effect somewhat by sniggering.

"I see. And I suppose _artists_ like you wear nought but boxers and a skimpy apron to cook in, do they?"

Vince peered at Howard from under his thick fringe, biting his lip seductively.

"It was well hot in here, Howard. What'm I supposed to do?"

Howard knew full well where he was going with this, but he was damned if he was going to be sucked in this early in the evening.

"You switch on the extractor fan, sir," he said, reaching out and flicking it to life. He didn't miss the disappointed frown on Vince's face, and grinned to himself as he headed out of the kitchen to listen to his new Jazz record in peace.

The pasta Vince had made was delicious. Howard swirled his red wine around his glass, marvelling at the tastes exploding in his mouth. He'd had no idea that Vince could cook like this, mainly due to the fact that he never really ate any proper food. Howard looked at him now, across the table, with his child-sized portion of pasta and a bowl of flying saucers for pudding. He'd removed the apron and put on some jeans and a t-shirt, but the tension that had ignited in Howard the moment he'd walked in through the kitchen door was still alive and burning brightly.

They'd taken things incredibly slowly over the past few months. Howard knew that it would take Vince a long time to get over his traumatic experiences and he was prepared to wait... for however long it took. He was happy when he was wrapped up with Vince at night, never going further than a cuddle and a lazy making-out session – but he longed to be joined with Vince, totally joined like the two perfect puzzle pieces that he knew they were. That they'd always been, but had been too blind to notice.

That same tension was still fizzing in the air when Howard cleared the table and stacked the dishwasher. He was aware of Vince sitting in the background, doodling on a little pad of paper and sucking slowly on flying saucers.

He couldn't help himself. Under the pretext of rinsing a plate he looked over at his beautiful boyfriend. The dark brows were knitted in concentration as he sketched out whatever it was on his pad, that little tongue peeked through his lips as he licked at the sherbert interior of a flying saucer. Howard felt hot and more than a little bit bothered. Vince raised the hand that wasn't drawing to push back his hair and that tongue darted out again. Howard dropped the plate on his foot.

"Awwww shit! Owww!" Vince glanced up immediately, jerked out of his reverie by Howard's shout.

"You alright, Howard?"

Howard's face was bright red, he could _feel_ the blush rising up from his neck and, flustered, he shoved the plate into the dishwasher and slammed the door shut.

"I'm just fine, sir. Men of Action don't feel any real physical pain – it's more the pain of the mind, the knowledge of being a tortured genius that really impacts..." Howard rambled on in this vein for about a minute or so, torturously aware that Vince was watching him with one eyebrow raised sardonically. When Howard finally trailed off into silence Vince merely nodded and went back to his drawing. Howard almost screamed in frustration.

**Vince's POV**

It wasn't like he didn't know what Howard was doing. Bless the tall Northern jazzy freak, it was _blatantly_ obvious. Which made it even more fun to tease him. He had been sketching out an idea for his new album's cover artwork, but out of the corner of his eye he'd been watching Howard's reaction to him eating his saucers. Hilarious. He never usually ate them like that, usually they were too irresistable and he snaffled them down whole. He did feel a little bit bad about Howard's foot but...

He was getting so frustrated with this, this _longing_ inside that stabbed at his heart everytime he looked at Howard. He was tired with being nervous about Howard touching him. Why should he be nervous? This was _Howard_. He knew with every fibre of his body that Howard would rather die than hurt him. The past few months under his loving care had made Zach no more than a hideous but distant memory.

Vince made up his mind. Tonight he would let things take their natural course and see where they ended up. He felt his blood race that little bit quicker even at that thought, and he ate another flying saucer to strengthen his resolve.

They took their tea up to bed with them, like always. Howard carefully set the mugs down on the bedside tables and undressed. Vince was already snuggled up in the duvet, head resting back on the pillows. He always slept in his boxers and a t-shirt – and Howard had taken to doing likewise.

Vince snickered to himself as he remembered seeing Howard's 'sensible nightwear' for the first time. The memory was amusing, but his fashion-conscious self always cringed in horror at remembering it. Seriously, he didn't even know that clothes like that _existed_. He'd taken them from Howard, burnt them, and Howard had slept in his t-shirt and boxers ever since. Howard glanced around as he heard Vince's snicker, and Vince felt his breath hitch slightly as he looked at his boyfriend. Howard's soft brown hair was mussy and sticking up in all directions from him pulling his sweater over his head. His brown eyes were crinkled at the corners in puzzlement at what Vince found so amusing. The t-shirt he was wearing was just a plain navy-blue one from Primark, but it emphasised his broad shoulders and defined back-muscles. Vince, who was essentially very girly in almost every respect, loved the elements of Howard that made him look so masculine.

Howard blushed faintly under Vince's intense scrutiny, pulled back the duvet and slid into bed. He turned in towards Vince, and the smaller man shuttled across the bed and curled into the crook of Howard's arm.

Vince knew what would happen next. It would be the same routine they performed every night. They would cuddle and kiss lazily for a few minutes, then Howard would say 'goodnight, little man', with that vaguely disappointed expression and turn and switch out the light. Well, not tonight. Vince Noir was determined to have his way with his jazz maverick.

He turned his face upwards, and Howard bent his head, capturing Vince's plump lips with a deep kiss. Howard shunted his body down so their heads were at about the same level, and wound his arms around Vince's waist.

Vince sighed in contentment, nipping at Howard's lower lip as their kiss became more passionate. Howard pushed a hand through Vince's hair and the younger man groaned at the feel of it. He pulled Howard closer towards him and smiled at little as he felt Howard's erection poking against his thigh.

This was new. Usually Howard had stopped it before it got this far, not allowing himself to become too aroused. Perhaps he too had sensed that this was the night.

Vince found himself to be slightly nervous, which surprised him. He felt like he was about to lose his virginity, which was an odd sensation to say the least. He wanted everything to be perfect.

Daringly he let his slender hands roam down Howard's broad back, lower, lower – until they reached the waistband of Howard's plaid boxers. Carefully, delicately, he slid his fingers inside, and let his palms cup Howard's buttocks. The bigger man pulled away from him slightly, his eyes darkened with lust but also a little concern. Vince kissed him gently on the lips and murmured:

"It's okay, Howard. I want this. I want _you_." Howard groaned at these words, and immediately fitted himself back onto Vince's lips, his hands doing exploring of their own. Slowly, gently, his fingers gripped Vince's boxers and gradually started pulling them down. Vince gasped as he felt the fabric, and then Howard's fingers brush against his erection and instinctively he bucked his hips.

**Howard's POV**

Howard couldn't quite believe this was happening. He'd pushed Vince's boxers down to his boyfriend's knees, and then Vince had swung his legs out of the side of the bed and kicked them off. Howard started sliding the tight red t-shirt up Vince's pale chest. If Vince was serious about going ahead with this, then Howard knew he had to be exceedingly gentle and loving. He wanted Vince to feel completely adored and safe. He lowered his mouth around an erect nipple and sucked and bit, feeling Vince buck and writhe beneath him. He felt slender fingers yank at his hair as he swirled his tongue around and around.

Suddenly Howard found himself on his back, with Vince sat astride him, legs either side of his stomach. He stared upwards through lust-hooded eyes as Vince slowly removed his scarlet t-shirt, rendering himself completely naked.

Although he was still a little too thin to Howard's eye, he didn't think he'd ever seen anything quite so beautiful before.

Vince smiled shyly, and then reached for the hem of Howard's t-shirt, which Howard was only too happy to help him take off.

Still fixing Howard with those amazing baby-blues, Vince moved down Howard's body, licking and kissing until Howard was moaning and trying hard to stay still. Eventually Vince reached Howard's boxers, and slid his fingers under the waistband again, this time for the purpose of pulling them down.

"Vince, you know you don't have to..." Howard started to say, before Vince looked up at him and put a finger to his lips.

"Shhh your lips, Howard." Slowly, agonisingly slowly, he lowered his mouth onto Howard. His clever tongue set to work, eliciting moans of pure ecstasy from Howard's mouth. Vince could feel his blood rushing as he licked up and down, nipped lightly and sucked. He glanced up through his fringe. Howard was lying flat out into the pillows, face flushed and eyes closed. He was biting his lip, trying to stop himself groaning. His fingers were tangled in Vince's hair – pulling, tugging, stroking – anything they damn well wanted to do.

As Vince got more daring and started fondling his balls Howard started moaning and thrusting his hips up into Vince's mouth. Vince gagged slightly but held his own, taking Howard in – deeper and deeper.

Vince could feel that Howard was about to explode. With a vague sense of regret he stopped sucking and moved back up to face Howard. The larger man was staring at him with something akin to awe in his eyes. Vince blushed.

"Howard, I..." the rest of his sentence was inaudible.

Howard leaned in closer, Vince's hair tickling his cheek.

"What?"

"I want you to..." again, he faded to a whisper.

Howard's eyes widened as he grasped Vince's meaning. This was what he had longed for – for more than fourteen years – ever since he'd first known Vince. And now, he had the opportunity to... but he couldn't forget Vince's previous... _experience_.

Vince knew what Howard was thinking, and although he was nervous about it too, he also knew with a calm certainty that this was what he wanted. That this was what he'd always wanted.

**Vince's POV**

Vince couldn't quite enunciate the words, but he knew that Howard had grasped what he'd meant when his boyfriend's eyes widened to what was quite possibly the largest that they would ever get.

Those brown eyes burned into his face, full of multiple emotions. Love, longing, lust and... fear. Or caution. He didn't want to hurt Vince. And that was what made up Vince's mind. That, and the fact that Howard was looking at him like he was some sort of angel.

Smiling slowly he reached across Howard and opened a drawer of the bedside table. Rummaging around in it, without breaking eye-contact, he found what he was looking for. Without saying a word he handed the tube and the packet to Howard, kissed him lovingly on the lips, and turned away, with his back facing his boyfriend.

There was a brief silence, then the sound of liquid squirting. He felt Howard's hot breath on his neck, felt his lips on his ear. Then the whisper:

"I love you. So much." And then, then, the finger at his entrance, cold with the lube, seeking admission. Slowly the finger slid into him. He gasped. Immediately memories that he'd been trying to supress started rising up in him. Zach's angry face... violence, and pain. But the finger inside him was gentle, loving, exploring him slowly. Vince let go of the hideous memory and surrendered himself to the here and now. To his boyfriend who loved him for who he was. Who had always loved him.

Howard added a second finger, and started scissoring. Vince moaned and tipped his head back, meeting Howard's lips for a kiss. The sensation was beautiful, there was no other word for it. He felt totally connected to Howard. The moment that thought crossed his mind (along with the slightly more random observation that the material of the curtains could possibly be made into an intriguing jacket – what could he say? He liked fashion) he immediately wanted more. Impatiently he thrust against Howard's fingers, yelping as they slid in deeper. Howard continued to press and swirl, until his fingers reached a certain spot inside Vince, and the slender man literally almost jumped off the mattress. Vince couldn't see Howard, but he knew that he was grinning.

"Enough... want you... now." The fingers paid no attention, and carried on. Vince squirmed in embarrassing need.

"Howard... stop fucking around you jazzy freak! I want you! NOW!"

The fingers retreated, there was silence, then another whisper in his ear:

"I love it when you get demanding."

And then he felt the tip of Howard's cock at his entrance, the feeling of it being slowly pushed in, the sensation of being totally filled. And his world made sense. Slowly Howard started rocking – giving Vince time to get used to him.

Vince twisted around and looked Howard dead in his, admittedly small, eyes. He raised his pale arms and locked them around Howard's neck. Howard thrust slowly and gently, his fingers tracing patterns on Vince's hairline.

Sure enough, however, things started getting a little more out of control. Howard, overcome with need for the raven-haired beauty locked in his arms, started pushing harder and harder. The moans escaping Vince's plump lips were pushing him over the edge, Vince's heat was surrounding him, his hands wandered everywhere, claiming every centimetre of Vince's body for his own. _His _electro boy. _His_ fairy queen. _His_ little man.

Vince was rocking desperately against the mattress of the bed, the headboard was slamming against the wall as Howard's thrusts became harder and rougher. Suddenly Vince felt Howard's hand move its way onto his erection, and start stroking and tugging.

"H-H-Howard!" he screamed, as he came all over Howard's hand – years of pent up longing finally releasing itself.

Howard felt Vince's walls clench and spasm around him, and, unable to resist, came himself – long and deep.

"Fuck, Vince!"

Vince felt completely free, completely easy, for the first time in a long time. In a weird way, he felt like a poison had been drawn out of him. The fear that Zach had installed had completely disappeared. All that was left was Howard's love. He felt so instantly happy that he couldn't stop a huge smile spreading across his face.

He looked across at Howard, who was laying, spreadeagled on the sheet, as if stunned. He couldn't help himself.

"Howard?"

The taller man levered himself up on his elbow and pushed a lock of hair out of Vince's face.

"Yes, little man?"

Vince frowned slightly. "D'you remember what you said to me that night I left. Maybe, four years ago?"

A spasm crossed Howard's face. "I said a lot of things that night. None of which I meant, I might add sir."

Vince paused. "You said we might be better off apart."

Howard grimaced. "You're right, I did say that."

"So... d'you reckon we would be better off apart?"

Although he was clearly joking, Howard could sense an anxiety underneath the mocking tone. He gathered the love of his life in his arms, stroking his face gently with one large hand.

"Vince Noir. Rock'n'roll star, darling of the tabloids, idiotic little electro poof that you are – I will love you to the end of the world and beyond. We belong together, and I will never, EVER, leave you."

He kissed Vince lightly on the lips, and Vince smiled. Together, as it was always meant to be, they fell asleep.

**Right, well. I really, really, really hope that went okay. That was my first time at writing a full on sex scene and I hope I did it justice. I wanted to convey the love – that was really all. As I said, the next chapter will be the last – just an epilogue to figure out what happens with Zach really. I haven't yet thought up something sufficiently nasty to happen to him – any ideas? Hint... review button? Please? xxxxxxxxx**


	18. Chapter 18

**Author's Note: Okay, so this is the epilogue. This fic has finally come to an end – and I have enjoyed writing it! I want to do a little fluffy Booshy one-shot next, or maybe a Glee fic. If you're a fan of Glee then please do check it out!**

**Disclaimer: Ohhh, they will never be mine. I must learn to accept it. Sadly, Noel and Julian belong to themselves. There is clearly no justice in the world.**

**Five Years to the day since Vince left the Nabootique**

**Vince's POV**

"Vince? We are going to be really, really, _really_ late if you don't get a move on!" Howard's agitated Northern tones echoed up from the hallway and into their bedroom. Vince grinned to himself, carefully applying just that little bit more eyeliner, staring into the mirror with his mouth open.

Five years ago he would never have dreamed that he would be in this position. A global superstar, now, with three albums to his name and a few acting jobs in the pipeline. Living in a trendy spot in London in a gorgeous two-bedroomed house. And most of all, having the one true love of his life as his boyfriend. He didn't ever think in his wildest dreams that he could have gotten so lucky.

"I'm coming!" he shouted back. "Just 'cos your getting-ready routine takes all of two seconds to complete, doesn't mean the rest of us should lower our standards!"

"Yes, but Vince you've been in that bedroom for three hours!" Howard wailed from downstairs. "How much make-up do you need, sir?"

Vince rolled his eyes and continued. No matter how many times he might try, he had to accept the fact that Howard was never going to be a fashion God. And although he might complain and bicker with him about it, Vince knew that he would hate it if Howard was anything else. Bad clothes just made up part of who Howard was. It would be like if Vince decided to suddenly start wearing sandals. He shuddered, involuntarily and his mind went temporarily blank, he suspected his brain cell might have just fainted.

Suddenly he heard heavy footsteps ascending the stairs, and the bedroom door was flung open. Howard was standing there in straight-leg, smart denim jeans (the only type of jeans Vince could get him to wear), a beige shirt, brown beat-up loafers and the leather jacket that Vince had bought for him thrown on top. Howard still had his original sense of 'style', if you could call it that, but after months of being in the spotlight along with Vince, he'd started to tentatively explore that dreaded field of 'fashion'.

He was glowering, and his hair was standing on end from the amount of times he'd clearly raked his fingers through it.

"Right, thass' it," he growled, strode across the room and grabbed Vince by the arm. "Come on, you little twit. We have to go. Now."

Trailing along behind him, Vince frantically patted a few hairs into place on his carefully coiffed 'do'.

"Awwww, Howarrrd, I hadn't finished me hair yet! Just two minutes more! Please?"

"No! Absolutely not, sir. Because two minutes in your mind means at least two hours! You can finish your beauty regime in the car."

He'd never admit it, but Vince secretly adored it when Howard became demanding and masculine. He also wouldn't admit the fact that someone like him probably needed someone like Howard around to keep him under control. Otherwise he probably wouldn't ever leave his make-up counter.

In fact, it was moments like these that reminded Vince that Howard had always had that slightly demanding side to him. He recalled their ill-fated expedition to the forest where Howard had tried to find the Yeti. Howard had gotten so frustrated with them all – especially after Vince's piles of clothes had collapsed on top of him. At the image that came into his mind, Vince sniggered, earning himself a suspiscious glance from Howard.

Of course the press were staking out his house, they were usually there most days, waiting to get their pictures.

"Howard," he hissed as they started down the steps to get into the car waiting on the kerb, "can you _stop_ dragging me, please?" Howard had removed his hand from Vince's arm, but was now clutching his hand instead and seemed intent on getting into the car as quickly as possible.

Howard slowed down a little, releasing the pressure slightly on Vince's hand.

"Sorry. I'm just a little nervous."

"_You're_ nervous? How d'you think _I_ feel? I've been working on this single and the video for ages."

"I know, and it's brilliant. The song is great and I'm sure the video will be too. You know that. I'm not nervous about that, it's the paparazzi, Vince. You know I don't like having my picture taken."

"Yeah, weird that, isn't it? In the old days you were desperate to get into any magazine who'd have you. Global Explorer... Jazz Monthly... Stationary Corner... House and Garden... Horse and Hound..."

"Alright, alright!" Howard muttered, glaring at Vince who was now giggling.

"You don't even like horses. Or hounds, for that matter."

"Yes, well..."

**Howard's POV**

He didn't have a comeback for that. When he thought about some of the things he'd done to try and get noticed back in the days of the Nabootique, he cringed. Yes, he was still passionate about jazz and stationary, much to Vince's despair. But he'd realized that those much regretted forays into getting his picture in the papers and magazines had merely been about him getting sick living constantly in Vince's shadow. No one so much as glanced at Howard with Vince Noir around.

And although the years apart had almost killed him – he was also beginning to see that they'd done him some good. For the first time he had a job that he liked and in which he was respected – as someone separate from Vince Noir. Vince had his superstardom and fame, which Howard had spent a lot of his life convinced that _he'd_ wanted for himself, when he now saw that all he'd needed was something _separate_. He'd always been a fairly introverted and shy person, and so his faceless column in the newspaper was something that suited him down to the ground. He could spend his time writing about the things he loved, and although it didn't pay much, he didn't need too much money with the income Vince was bringing in. But he was bringing in _some_ money, which was important to him. He couldn't have borne being constantly indebted to Vince, hanging on his shirt-tails.

His fear of the paparazzi was an insecurity – he couldn't bring himself to believe that they weren't going to turn on him and take the piss. He wouldn't have blamed them. I mean, he and Vince made an unlikely couple, really.

However, the press seemed to have gone with the angle of portraying Howard as very much the dominant, silent type in the background, protective but distant, allowing Vince to do his thing. They weren't really _that_ interested in him, he'd realized with relief. All they wanted was for him to play his part and pose with his arm around Vince, something he was more than happy to do.

Vince would prance around like a brightly coloured peacock, and he would keep to the background, watching in awe. It worked.

But he still got a little angsty when people were shoving cameras in his face outside his own home.

"Hey guys!" Vince cheerily waved as he was towed slowly, but forcefully, towards the car. "Can't stop, apparently we're running late."

Howard had to admit that due to Vince's unceasing friendliness and openness towards the press, they were a lot more likely to respect their space.

Grumbling a little, but not too much, they moved out of the way to allow Vince and Howard to get to the car. Winston, following behind, looked a little put out, Howard noted. He seemed to miss fending photographers off his famous client.

**Vince's POV**

The car pulled up outside the studio where the screening was being held, and Vince's heart gave a funny little flip in his chest. Automatically he squeezed Howard's hand a little bit tighter before the car door was opened and he was helped out.

He hadn't bothered dressing up too much for today. After all, he was mainly going to be sitting in a dark room watching himself prancing around looking edgy and moody. But then again, not making an effort in Vince's point of view was very different to almost everyone else's.

He decided to wear his tightest, ripped pair of skinny jeans. They were sort of beige, a mixture between grey and white. In the ripped sections there was a panel of shiny silver sequins glittering. On his feet were black ankle boots, he had a tight blue t-shirt on and a black, military style jacket with silver thread picking out the name 'Noir' on the lapel – a throwback to his zookeeping days. Of course his hair was immaculate, and he'd dusted a small sprinkling of glittery silver glitter into it – not enough so that it was immediately obvious, but enough to catch the light.

Howard's eyes, when he looks at him, tell him that he looks amazing.

It's just as well. The usual crowd of paparazzi are thronging around the entrance to the studio, tipped off by an anonymous source that Vince Noir would be here at this particular time. Vince isn't bothered, of course. He loves having his photo taken – just so long as he's looking good, naturally.

The photographers get several great shots, including one of Howard leaning in to whisper something in Vince's ear (in actual fact it's joking threats if they don't get inside soon, but from the press's point of view it looks like a loving whisper) and Vince tilting his head back to press his body flush against Howard's, the perfect image of a loving couple.

Vince knew a lot of the photographers by name, and stopped to have a little chat with them before going inside, ignoring Howard's obvious impatience. It really did pay to have the press on your side, he had discovered. Zach had treated them with disdain and sometimes downright rudeness. This was made all the more puzzling since he was distinctly Z-list and surely had a lot more to gain from good press than Vince did, riding high as he was in the privileged A-list class. The press were happy that Vince had finally found someone who treated him as he deserved. Howard Moon was silent, true, and often could come across as moody – but they could tell he had a heart of gold, and it was clear that he couldn't love Vince more.

Finally, after posing for pictures and chatting for more than ten minutes, Howard finally succeeded in hauling Vince inside.

"You are a compete peacock, d'you know that sir?" Howard muttered, but with warmth and love.

"What, those birds with the big tails? They're genius, Howard! Clearly nature's chosen ones. Thanks!"

Howard rolled his eyes, but grinned.

"Of course you're the chosen one, you even had a song dedicated to you as such, if you remember."

Vince cringed, remembering how he'd gotten a little carried away on that particular adventure of theirs.

"Yeah... true, but the chosen one wouldn't have got far without the... the... _un_-chosen one, would he?" Vince smirked, pleased with his logic.

Howard snaked an arm around Vince's slender, colourful waist, and guided him into the small, intimate theatre in which the video was to be shown.

"Come on, you self-obsessed titbox. Let's get this show on the road, eh?"

**Howard's POV**

The video was, quite frankly, genius. The song was entitled '_Comeback_', and the lyrics represented Vince's struggle to free himself from the poisonous relationship with Zach, and his subsequent happiness. It was an uplifting song, with catchy melodies and a real message which fans of Vince and people who knew him would know came from the heart.

However, Howard had a slightly different experience watching the video than the other people watching it. Vince had made sure that he hadn't seen it until this moment, insisting that it was going to be a surprise.

Vince had clearly wanted to make a statement to Zach with the song, to show him how much he was missing. But he'd also made a very similar statement with the video.

And so Howard found himself sitting in a darkened room, watching Vince prowl around the backstreets of some city in a kind of black corset, adorned with ribbon and silver lightning bolts. On his bottom half was a pair of jeans which looked like they'd been painted on, silver and black in colour – and sky high heels which came up to his thighs. His hair was flying around his head, surely root-boosted to double its usual volume, and across his face, from the top-left corner of his hairline, to the bottom-right corner of his jaw was a huge silver, glittery lightning bolt, matching the ones on his corset top.

Even watching this image, Howard felt an uncomfortable twitching in his jeans. But that wasn't all. Interspersed with these images was Vince, writhing around naked, but covered in black oil.

He was belting the lyrics into the camera, his blue eyes lasering into the audience with a burning intensity and fire – while his slender body was coated in a substance that clung to him like a second skin – leaving absolutely nothing to the imagination.

_Shit_. Howard shifted uncomfortably in his seat – agonisingly aware of the fact that Vince, and several important studio heads were sitting in this very room, less than a metre away. However the friction in his jeans was becoming very hard to ignore.

He bit his lip, but only succeeded in wincing in pain.

Suddenly, he felt a slender hand slide slowly past the waistband of his jeans and boxers, and feel its way delicately to his throbbing erection. Howard threw his head back against the back of the seat, desperately stifling a moan as Vince's clever hand worked its magic.

In a way, this was worse torture. Trying to keep silent was absolutely impossible. Howard bit his lip again, this time drawing blood.

Vince's fingers were stroking, tugging, drawing a line from the slit at the tip of his length to his balls at the bottom. Howard chanced a glance at his boyfriend. Incredible. Vince was sitting in his seat, eyes fixed on the screen, showing no indication that anything untoward was happening.

The fingers sped up, wilfully eliciting barely held back moans from Howard as he neared an astonishingly fast climax.

Suddenly, he came, with a surprised yelp.

Vince hurriedly withdrew his hand, as several people turned to look at him, frowning in disapproval.

"Sorry... sorry... erm, pins and needles."

Out of the corner of his eye he could see Vince grin.

**Vince's POV**

The screening couldn't have gone any better. As soon as they got outside, several important studio heads were complimenting Vince on the video, announcing that they would definitely try to get it fast-tracked for release. A couple even mentioned that they hoped Howard had gotten over his pins and needles.

A very inspired cover-up, Vince thought. He had seen the discomfort that Howard was in, and had decided to try and ease it for him. Not that it had been a purely altruistic act. He'd had his own agenda – purely that he loved anything to do with Howard's cock. That was about it, really.

As they exited from the building, Vince heard excited shouts from the street. Turning he saw three people he'd never expected to see again.

"Vince! Hey, Vince!"

It was Nick, carefully threading his way through the crowds of people to reach Vince's side. As he approached Winston had stepped forward, but Vince had shaken his head, indicating that he knew who it was.

Nick had had a certain amount of success since they'd gone their separate ways. He now had exhibitions of his paintings in several London galleries, and his star was definitely on the rise. Vince himself had actually bought one of them, astonished by its vibrancy and life. It hung, at the moment, above the fireplace in his and Howard's living room.

Austin was next to Nick. Vince had seen him a couple of times since moving out, and he'd also been on a new reality TV series entitled 'Who Wants To Be A Hairdresser?' This had amounted to a camera crew following around the most 'entertaining' hairdressing personalities in Britain, of whom Austin apparently was one.

And trailing along behind them was... James. James had sort of disappeared off the radar ever since the trouble with Zach began. Vince had no doubt that he had seen it all documented in the papers, television and magazines, but he hadn't attempted to make contact at all.

Vince had gone over their last conversation again and again, and had come to the conclusion that James's over-enthusiastic response to Vince declaring his love for Howard had been purely a defensive mechanism. No-one would have responded like that meaningfully.

Vince greeted Nick and Austin, exchanging pleasantries and general news, before turning to James. His ex-boyfriend was mussing up his hair anxiously with one hand, and flicked his gaze to Vince once, before turning it back to the tarmac.

"Hey, James. You awright?" Vince asked gently. Howard hovered in the background, seeming to realise this was a private moment between the two of them.

"I'm okay. Hey, and congrats on the single and stuff."

"Thanks." There was an awkward silence.

"James, look. I know we maybe parted kind of weirdly, and I should have made sure you were okay afterwards. You know I never meant to hurt you, and I do still love you – as a mate."

James looked up at Vince properly for the first time, and though his eyes did contain hurt, they also contained acceptance.

"It's okay, Vince. Really. I can't pretend I wasn't... angry at what happened. But I know it was for the best. I'm actually seeing someone else now. Seems pretty serious."

Vince grinned. "That's great! Awww, awesome."

Without any urging, suddenly James reached past Vince, towards Howard.

Howard flinched slightly, as if expecting James to try and land a punch on him.

"Hey, you must be Howard. It's great to finally meet you. I heard so much about you when I was with Vince."

Howard shook his hand firmly. "Good to meet you too, sir. I owe you thanks. For looking after Vince when I... when I, went slightly overboard, shall we say?"

James grinned and nodded. "Anytime, mate."

Suddenly there was a commotion. People on the pavement were squealing and shouting indignantly as they were unceremoniously pushed aside.

Shoving his way through the crowd was one face that Vince had hoped never to set eyes on again.

Zach Cordo arrived at the little group of friends with an ugly expression on his face. His dark brows were knitted together with hostility.

Nick and Austin, not exactly the strong type parted before his wrath.

James and Howard appeared frozen in place, both of them staring at the man who had made their love's life a misery.

Only Vince appeared to move. Slowly he moved towards Zach, at the same time looking at Winston and making a motion with his hand that appeared to say 'back off until needed' along with a wink, which Winston clearly understood as he faded into the background.

"Vince. I want a fucking word with you, you little twat," was Zach's opening greeting, his dark eyes flashing with anger.

Vince fluffed his hair with one hand, but he couldn't help feeling scared shitless inside. The sheer physical presence of Zach was overwhelming. Flashbacks raced through his mind, Zach looming above him, his fist slamming into his stomach, his face, his booted feet lashing out while he was on the floor... those two nights when Vince couldn't do a thing...

"Sure. Go ahead," was Vince's calm reply. He may be scared shitless, but Vince could act. Oh yes, he could act. And right now, although he was frightened, he was also furious. He didn't want to be haunted by Zach's ghost anymore.

"So you've finally shacked up with your idiotic little jazz freak have you?"

Howard made to step forward, but Vince held up a hand.

"Yeah, I have. So what?"

Zach sneered at him. "I'd have thought it was obvious. I was hoping that I may have been dumped for someone at least noteworthy – but it seems I was wrong. That Moon bloke is nothing but a fat, stupid waste of space."

Vince's face creased in an emotion that he wasn't that familiar with nowadays. Anger.

"Take that back."

"Why?" Zach taunted. "It's true. He's a lumbering, idiotic simpleton. He dresses like someone who's blind and his entire being is pointless. We both know it..."

But by this point, Vince had snapped.

His brain cell was getting more and more agitated, and finally, it saw red.

Zach's eyes widened, as he saw Vince's fist draw back, and solidly connect with his nose.

_Thunk!_

The crack seemed to echo for miles around. Zack fell backwards like a log, hitting the pavement with a thud.

As he lay stunned, Vince leaned over him.

"Don't you ever, _ever_, come near me again. Or Howard. D'you understand?" And then he looked over his shoulder.

He'd heard the siren wailing as it approached the street, and now the police car drew up at the curb, spilling out two muscular police officers.

Vince'd worked out a signal with Winston months beforehand. If ever he needed the police called for anything, he'd wink at him and hold up a hand.

Winston had done his job.

The police had been looking for Zach for quite a while, ever since the Jonathan Ross episode.

They nodded acknowledgement at Vince and then heaved Zach off the pavement.

"Zach Cordo, you are being arrested on suspicion of grievous bodily harm, rape and domestic assault. You have the right to remain silent..."

Glaring with panicked eyes at Vince and Howard, Zach was loaded into the squad car, and it roared off into the distance, sirens blaring.

Howard and Vince looked at each other.

"Thank you for that," Howard said, his eyes filling up slightly.

"For what, you idiot?" Vince asked fondly, wrapping his arms around Howard's waist.

"For standing up for me. I don't think anyone's ever done that for me before apart from you."

"You're worth standing up for," Vince muttered, tightening his arms.

Howard prised him off and stood silent for a minute.

"What's the matter?" Vince asked, slightly worried.

Abruptly Howard sank to his knee. Vince, still not quite clocking what was going on (his brain cell had had a lot to deal with in the past few minutes after all) looked a little concerned.

"Vince Noir," Howard started, reaching into his pocket and drawing out a small navy, velvet box. Vince's eyes widened to epic proportions. "Will you marry me?"

Vince's gaze took in Austin, Nick and James all standing close beside him, mouths open with amazement. Winston had taken a tissue out of his pocket and was wiping his eyes. Passers-by on the street who had been there since Vince had exited the building were open-mouthed.

But all Vince could see was the tall, Northern, brown-haired, brown-eyed man that he knew he would love for all eternity. And he knew there was no other answer.

"Yes."

**Well folks, that's it for this fic! I hope you enjoyed reading it as much I enjoyed writing it! Please review this epiloge just to let me know what you think! I'm going to be back with more fics though, so keep an eye out! Thanks to you all for reviewing xxxxxx**


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